Joke's On You
by The Batchild
Summary: Eleanor wants to play a bigger role in Gotham's protection, and thanks to her friends, she is given the tools to do just that. When the Joker shows up, she's eager to put her newfound skills to the test, but finds that she still has a lot to learn and a lot of pain to endure. Sequel to Reflection of His Enemy.
1. Chapter One: Bright Lights, Coming Home

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter One: Bright Lights; Comin' Home

* * *

The late-winter sun was oppressive.

Eleanor Black sat on her small hotel balcony, leaning back in her chair, ankles crossed on the railing, and stared out at the oh-so-shiny buildings of Metropolis with a distinctive grimace on her face. She'd been in the city for about five and a half weeks and she'd hated every minute of it because it wasn't her home. Her hotel room that had become her temporary residence had become her hellish sanctuary all in the course of just over a month, and she only left it for one of four reasons: to buy groceries, to walk her dog, to go down to the pool or gym, or, three days a week to go to a karate class she'd promised herself she'd take up after the whole Doppelganger fiasco a few months ago: having your life seriously threatened more than once and not being able to be of much help when trying to take down said threat can make one seriously reconsider their lifestyle. In Eleanor's case, she'd taken to regular workouts in an effort to make herself more capable of helping _him _when she returned home.

And, of course by _him _she meant The Batman.

Bruce Wayne.

The man she loved and the man she missed more than anything.

Thinking of her billionaire made her even more homesick than she was, every time she thought about him. Before she'd left Gotham, she and Bruce had reached this weird new level in their relationship and having to leave so soon after she'd discovered his deepest secret and after having been welcomed into his life had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, pulling her thick sweater around herself tighter. It wasn't snowing, and there wasn't any of the wretched white stuff on the ground anymore, but there was still a chill in the air. Blaze, her red Siberian husky, whined and nuzzled her elbow with his nose, as he did every time she started to get overly sad; he was an incredibly intuitive dog. Eleanor wanted so badly to return to Gotham; she craved the flaws of her home: the darkness, the rain, the noise. She missed her friends and family and Bruce; she wanted to be back at the manor, back in the cave. The green and gold hotel suite felt nothing like home; she wasn't even that comfortable in it. She was only in Metropolis because Bruce had talked her into it. He thought it would appease her worrisome parents and it would give her any time she needed to think about what had happened with the crazed woman Ashlynn Chiang who had been the Doppelganger; to think about if she wanted to leave Gotham for Metropolis. But she knew the answer to that, and she always had. She didn't want to leave Gotham. That was her place. Beside Bruce. Beside Batman.

Blaze barked and licked her hand, leaning into her fingers as they entwined almost subconsciously into his thick fur. "I know, boy. You wanna go home as much as I do…" Eleanor turned her cobalt eyes down to her beloved pet and scratched his ears. "You miss your park, don't you?" Blaze barked again and Eleanor managed to laugh a little as her dog's pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. "Eh… let's go watch the news?"

She followed her dog inside and closed the sliding door behind her, locking it out of habit; in Metropolis, there really wasn't as urgent a need for locked doors, but growing up in Gotham, some things were ingrained. Eleanor turned on the television and fell into the large armchair, Blaze taking up post seated beside her. As the opening notes for the evening news sounded through the room, the husky yawned and curled up to sleep and Eleanor curled up in the chair, her eyelids half-closed as she waited for anything important to pop up. Her definition of important included only what had to do with Gotham, but she didn't get the Gotham news stations here and the Metropolitan coverage seemed to be lacking a certain amount of detail, like there was some kind of censorship trying to protect the purity of the shiny, shiny city.

_"Coming from our sister city, Gotham, reports of Bruce Wayne's annual New Year's party are glowing. The billionaire's reputation for throwing outstanding parties still holds even through the Prince of Gotham seemed strangely absent from his own celebration, at times wandering off for no good reason."_

Eleanor snorted in laughter, her attention drifting again as the news anchor went on about which celebrities showed up, what wine was served, yadda yadda—all that useless information. She smiled warmly to herself as a picture of Bruce popped on screen, smiling crookedly. A tightness appeared in her chest, but she kept smiling; it was a familiar tightness and she welcomed it.

_"In other news from Gotham, Batman has failed to prevent several high-profile robberies. It is believed he may be in league with this Catwoman."_

"Bullshit," Eleanor snapped at the television.

Almost as if on cue, the phone began to ring. Eleanor got to her feet and pulled the cordless phone off the hook, wondering who the hell would be calling her as she pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, sitting in the less-than-comfortable chair beside the small table where the phone kept residence.

_"How's the Sparkling Pit?" _

"Shauna!" Eleanor's face split into a wide grin as she pictured her engineer friend huddled at her desk in the basement of Wayne Enterprises. "I _hate_ it."

_"Missing Bruce Wayne, are we?" _Shauna asked, a very audible smile in her voice.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, even though it was the truth; she missed Bruce _a lot_. "Not as much as I miss you and Adam," she said instead of confirming Shauna's observation.

_"Well that goes without saying, love, but we all know you miss Bruce more than anyone else, even your own parents. You can't lie to me." _Shauna laughed, her voice cracking slightly over the line. _"But it's fine because we all know you two are going to get married and have little kiddies and it'll be so cute! Awe, little billionaire babies with your eyes and his hair… Did you ever notice how fabulous his hair is?" _

Eleanor rolled her eyes again, but she laughed. "Yes I have noticed how fabulous his hair is, but Shauna, trust me, the whole marriage and baby thing is _not _going to happen. Not any time in the near future anyways." Eleanor knew there was a slim chance anything like what Shauna had said would happen, but the thought still made her blush, especially since her and Bruce were much, much closer than they'd been before. She didn't even hold out any hope that that future existed for her, but the idea was still important. "How's Gotham been doing these past five weeks?"

_"Without you, it's pretty boring. There's like, there's this big hole here at Wayne Enterprises, up on the top floor, by Mr. Fox's office… But otherwise, pretty much the same. Crime and darkness, even during the day. Good ol' Gotham." _Shauna paused and sighed and over-dramatic sigh. _"Can you come home now, PLEASE? You don't REALLY need to time to think about what happened, do you? You've got it together, right? Like, you're super close to Batman and Bruce Wayne. What do YOU need time to think about?" _

"Shauna, stop rambling and tell me about what Batman's been up to." She wanted to ask who the hell Catwoman was, but she knew Shauna would get there in her own time. Bully for Eleanor for waiting.

_"Ha, figures you'd want to talk about the Big Black Bat," _Shauna said with an obvious smile in her voice. _"Well, he's been kicking ass and taking names, as per the usual. But he's been sticking to the normal, basic crimes. There's some new freaks floating around Gotham though." _Without prompting, the engineer continued speaking, and Eleanor could almost see her hunched over at her desk, the mischievous glint in her eyes. _"There's this woman who has a taste for high-profile robberies. She takes the cat-burglar who takes things a little too far. She's a mask who runs around in a tight leather suit with goggles and cat ears and calls herself Catwoman. From what I've read in the news, she's pretty good. She's managed to avoid Batman several times." _There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like flipping papers. _"Oh, and there's this guy that looks like a demented clown or something—"_

"Are you talking about The Joker?"

_"Oh yeah! I wasn't in Gotham the last time he was terrorizing. Anyway, he's running around with these two henchwomen, and they're supposed to be as crazy and ruthless as the Joker. The names I've heard floating around are Harley Quinn and The Queen of Spades. They've been keeping off the radar since the breakout at Arkham." _

"Yeah, I heard about that. Would you judge me if I said I really wanted to come home now?"

_"Yes I would judge you; I am judging you. You're a crazy bitch, Eleanor, to want to come back here after I've told you about the freaks running around, but that's you. And we all miss you here and want you to come home, regardless of what gets you here."_

Eleanor paused. She looked across the room at Blaze, who was looking back at her with a sad expression on his overly-expressive face. Whatever resolve she had left to stay in Metropolis for three more weeks broke in that moment. "I'm coming home, Shauna."

_"What? I thought you were staying for two months."_

"Yeah—don't tell anyone. I've still gotta phone some other people."

_"Everyone else?" _

"Yeah, everyone else. I'll talk to you later?"

_"Yup. See you when you get back. And don't worry. I won't tell the blabbermouth I work with. Promise."_

"Thanks Shauna."

_"Bye."_

"Bye."

Eleanor hung up the phone and returned it to her pocket. She pushed herself out of the chair and walked back to the window where she crossed her arms under her chest and stared out at the city again, but this time, she was smiling. And it was a smug smile. She was going home. At that moment, Metropolis didn't seem as repulsive as it had. Not even the images of Superman flying across the screen of her television—more news about how the alien superhero could do no wrong—could dampen her superior mood. She was going home. She was going back to where she was happy.

"Come on Blaze," she said. "Let's go for one last walk."

* * *

Daria Vaudry, nineteen years old and completely alone in the world, had always been a little loony, ever since she was six and witnessed her mother's death by electrocution. Some freak had jammed metal rods in her ears and then attached a bunch of car batteries. Bye-bye Mommy. After that, little Daria had been placed in the not-so-capable hands of her career-driven and high-powered lawyer Daddy who hired nanny after nanny but could never seem to get Daria out of her little world. Therapist and therapist had proved fruitless efforts as well. The little, red-eyed girl was broken. Even she knew she'd never be the same again, but daddy dearest didn't seem ready to make that realization yet.

Her first kill had been her pet cat Whiskers, a present from Daddy to try and make her smile. The first nanny had quit after finding the dismembered and bloody kitty carcass.

Daddy knew he'd lost his daughter the.

Years and years passed without anyone really realizing how crazy the child was. She could appear and act normal whenever she felt like it, but the smallest thing would set her off; with the cat, it had hissed at her. All the squirrels and racoons and mice and rats had looked at her funny. She'd learned to switch her kill-button off when people were involved, but then she would hunt down an animal or a hobo to viciously tear apart.

When she was thirteen, Daria could take no more yelling, no more therapists, no more nannies, and, following some impulse, she ran away from her suburban home in New York. For the next five years after that, she'd drifted from city to city, town to town and no one came looking for her. No one cared about the broken, odd little girl who was too skinny for her own good and had eyes as wild as anything. She'd killed more animals and random transients she'd encountered who looked at her the wrong way, but she'd stayed away from the main streets, from the people who reminded her of her mother and father, from the people who would be missed if they were killed. She'd ended up in Gotham by the time she was eighteen and what just happened to be one of the first things she'd seen? News coverage of the Joker robbing a bank. That thing that switched on before she hurt someone switched on upon seeing the pasty faced, green-haired villain, and it had never turned off.

And now, she was sitting in some dingy, dirty bar watching some small, decrepit old television and sipping some lukewarm ass-beer and waiting.

Waiting for the Joker.

He'd broken out of Arkham the week before. She'd heard on the news that he was hovering around this area of the city. Maybe she could find him. Maybe she could help him do whatever he was trying to do. Maybe she could put her viciousness to use. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She drank her beer and waited, staring incessantly at the door with intense, dark red eyes. Someone in the bar had seen the Joker in here once. That was good enough for Daria.

The door swung open and a loud gunshot echoed through the small bar.

Crazed laughter followed.

Daria turned her head and a savage grin split her face. One of the men sitting at the table behind her fell to the ground, a pool of dark blood spreading beneath his stringy hair. More crazed laughter shivered around the bar, all the patrons sinking farther into their respective shadows, even the bartender disappearing into the backroom. Daria was the only one who remained where she was, smiling weirdly and the switch inside her blaring in full force. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"My, my, looks like there's someone at my favourite table." Another gunshot and said someone—sitting at the same table as the other dead guy—slumped forward, face falling into the slop he was eating. "Now there's a dead guy in my food." An overly exasperated sigh. "Hey you there, bring me something."

"Whadda ya want, Mista J?"

"Anything. Just make sure there's no bodies in it." He laughed again, high-pitched and wonderful to Daria's ears. His crazy eyes found her staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he asked, the gun hanging limply at his side. "Why don't you bring me something too?"

Daria nodded and climbed from her stool, over the bar and fell to a crouch on the other side, eyes peering at dusty labels, looking for something suitable. Her fingers brushed clean a label of something perfect. Something green. Something weird. She climbed back over the bar—never one for convention—and handed him the bottle, staring at his white face, her eyes sliding over the scars mangling his mouth in a permanent smile; she was incredibly conscious of the wide grin still holding her face.

"And what can _you_ do?"

Daria picked up the jagged steak-knife from the he table and chunked it into the wall across the bar. The knife embedded itself in the wall less than an inch above a man's head. She picked up the other knife from the table and threw it too, landing it in the wooden handle of the previous knife. Then she picked up the fork and tossed it almost lazily. The fork went in the guy's eye and he slumped forward, dead. More confident than she'd ever been before, Daria smiled down at the Joker, who was now sitting on one of the men he'd killed. His henchwoman reappeared, a hunk of raw meat in one hand, and stared at the knives and the new dead guy.

"Oh, she's good Mista J," the woman said, flopping the meat on the table and wrapping her arms around the Joker's neck. "She might be able to help bring down the loser in the black tights." She looked up at Daria from under her white-painted eyelids in what was unmistakably a glare. "As long as she doesn't try and take you away from me, J, she could be useful."

"Shut up Harley."

Daria sat down at the table and just smiled.

* * *

Eleanor and Blaze jogged through the dry and chilly streets of Metropolis to the park where Blaze tried to chase the ducks in the pond without getting wet and Eleanor had to listen to a group of little boys playing catch go on and on and on about how Superman was so cool, so amazing—like, he can FLY! As soon as Blaze was bored of the unobtainable game birds, they took off again, heading deeper in the city. The sun had set by the time they turned around and the temperature had dropped several degrees. Regardless of that fact, Eleanor was sweating buckets.

When Eleanor and Blaze returned to the hotel, they were stopped at the reception desk. Apparently, over the two and a half hours—a rather epically long walk—someone had called the hotel, not her room, and left her a message. Which was weird, since everyone she thought would want to talk to her while she was gone had her room number _and _her cell number, so they could all get a hold of her directly. Regardless of the strangeness, she ignored the note until she was back in her room, showered and changed into her favourite penguin-patterned pyjama pants and baggy t-shirt with the hole in the shoulder, and curled up on the couch with her hair twisted into a towel and her book in her lap. The note was only six words and it wasn't signed, but she could guess who it was from as soon as she'd finished reading it.

_I'm coming to get you tonight._

Without thinking, she grabbed the little black phone off the table and pressed the button that would connect her to her favourite person. "Who told you?" she asked as soon as the line connected. No hellos, no greeting of any sort, but Eleanor was smiling brightly.

_"Who said anyone told me anything?"_

She'd phoned him yesterday, but hearing Bruce's voice still sent shivers down her spine. Even though he couldn't see her, Eleanor's eyes narrowed in a glare. "I know Shauna told you. She's under obligation since she's working on your _secret_." Bruce had been planning a surprise since she'd left and he kept dropping hints, taunting her and making her want to come home all the more. For someone who had wanted her to take a break in Metropolis, he hadn't been doing a very good job keeping her there. "She's got to tell you all my plans since I could come home and ruin everything. It's fine—I kind of thought she'd tell you, but I was hoping she wouldn't."

_"All right, so Shauna told me you were planning on coming home. Don't get mad at her. I knew you were going to try and escape at some point, although I didn't think you'd last this long." _

"I'm not mad at Shauna, and when are you coming?"

_"I'm leaving in a minute, so make sure you're ready for eleven."  
_

"I will be." Eleanor paused. "Thanks Bruce. I'm so tired of this place."

_"I know, Ellie. I'll be there as soon as I can."_

"Bye."

Eleanor didn't wait for him to say good-bye. It was a habit of his to hang up as soon as the conversation proper was finished. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and just sat on the couch for a while, staring ahead, smiling. Earlier in the day, she'd been happy about the thought of going home, but she wasn't sure she'd actually go through with it. If she had just left, just shown up in Gotham three weeks earlier than planned, Bruce would be mad. He'd forgive her, but he'd still be angry that she'd gone back on her word. But now that he was coming to get her… She was _really _going home. The images of Wayne Tower, of her apartment building, of Wayne Manor, of the cave flooded her mind, and she smiled more. Blaze, asleep on the floor, whimpered in a dream and pawed at the air, as if he was trying to bring something closer; maybe he was dreaming of home too. Eleanor turned her cobalt eyes to the large clock on the wall. It was just before eight in the evening. Three hours to pack. It wouldn't take her that long… She sighed and settled back into the couch and thought of home.

* * *

Bruce hadn't expected to miss Eleanor as much as he had.

Five and a half weeks ago, after he got back from getting her settled in the hotel—that had taken six hours in itself and three hours to get back to Gotham—he'd gone down to the cave to prepare for that night's patrol. At first, everything had been fine, until he'd said something before thinking it all the way through and had expected a sarcastic comment from Eleanor and it wasn't there; she wasn't there. There was a hole in that cave. He hadn't realized it, but when Eleanor had been living at the manor after her hospital stay, she'd really become a concrete part of his life, of Batman's life. She was always right beside him; ready to do what he needed her to do, ready to do whatever was needed to help. She was always right beside him, smiling and ready to offer support, always ready with an idea or… a hug or whatever he could possible ask for or need. And without her there, something had been missing.

So, when he saw her across the hotel lobby at eleven o'clock pm that night and he felt incredibly happy and relived, he was prepared for it.

But he still couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at the happiness and comfort she brought out in him. It was something he'd never really felt before.

When her cobalt eyes located him across the lobby, she closed the distance at all but a run. She wrapped her arms around him when she reached him, and nuzzled her face into his chest, just like she always did. He returned the embrace and kissed the top of her head, which was the part of her he could most easily reach. He pressed his face into her hair, and in that moment, Bruce was incredibly content. He didn't know how long they stood there, but it was a while and when Eleanor started to pull away, he didn't really want to let her go. She smiled and blushed a bit before she took a step back, taking his hand with her. Following an impulse, he pulled her closer again and kissed her full on the mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her against him. A second passed before he remembered they were in public; there would be a picture on some tabloid front page tomorrow. Nothing new for Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy—whole new experience for Eleanor Black. He pulled away and smiled down at her.

Eleanor blushed furiously red, but returned the grin. "My bags are upstairs with Blaze," she whispered.

Bruce nodded and let her lead the way to the elevator, up to the fifteenth floor and down the hall to her room in the corner of the building. Her bags were indeed packed and Blaze was sitting patiently in front of the stack, leash already attached and coiled on the floor. When he saw Bruce, the husky leapt to his feet and barked, tail wagging and pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Taking the cue, Bruce walked over and greeted the dog by ruffling his collar and scratching his ears and taking the proffered drool with practiced grace. Eleanor smiled and picked up two of her bags and Blaze's leash, leaving Bruce to take the other bags; Eleanor looked incredibly thankful that you didn't need a free hand to lock hotel room doors. They headed back downstairs where Eleanor checked out and they loaded the bags in the car. Her bags took up the entirety of the trunk space and Blaze stretched out to take up the whole back seat.

"Alfred didn't drive?" Eleanor asked as she closed the trunk. "What? You're willing to sit the whole three hours back with me? It's going to be one in the morning by the time we get back. Wait, what about B… that other thing you have to do?" She hopped up to sit on the trunk, wincing a bit as what Bruce guessed was her ribs protested.

"Are you OK?" Bruce moved so he was standing in front of her and subconsciously put his hand on her knee. He didn't move his hand.

"I'm fine." She forced herself to smile. "My ribs still smart if I move the wrong way." In truth, she'd taken a good punch in karate class the night before and her nearly-healed ribs had decided it was a good idea to get themselves bruised again and hurt like a sonofabitch. "Now what the hell are you going to do about your problem?" Eleanor was smart enough to keep her voice down, but she was so profoundly curious that it was a tiny bit irritating.

Bruce rolled his eyes and moved his hands to her shoulders. "Calm down, Ellie. Gotham can live without me for a few hours. Now get in the car so we can go."

"Why'd you kiss me?"

Bruce sighed and stopped himself from rolling his eyes again. "I missed you. Now, we've got to go. Please get in the car?"

"See? You can't stay away from Gotham for very long."

"Ellie…"

"Fine, fine." She smirked and the gesture made Bruce smile; he really had missed her. She slipped off the trunk and hugged him again. "I missed you too." She pulled away and climbed into the passenger seat of the car and kicked off her boots again. The blue-eyed Gothamite propped her feet on the dashboard and tilted the seat back. "Come on Bruce! We've gotta get back to Gotham!"

He really had missed her.

Even at her most annoying.

* * *

**Author's Note  
**"Bright Lights" – Matchbox Twenty  
"Comin' Home" – City and Colour

Just for your information, I'm not choosing songs based on their lyrics—just their titles. They will all be songs I've heard and/or listen to frequently and love. If anything by Hans Zimmer is ever used, you can guarantee I love that song and you should all find a copy of it a.s.a.p. Oh, and the whole "fabulous hair" thing is a bit of an in-joke between myself and the real-life Shauna that began with an episode of Star Trek Voyager.

Anyways, moving onto the actual story…

First of all, another HUGE thank you to everyone who read and reviewed **Reflection of His Enemy**. That fic was a huge accomplishment for me, and I was glad so many of you liked it and stayed with me over the year it took me to finish the story. Hopefully, the sequel won't take me as long to finish. I'll do my best. Since I'll be working on this one and **Chances Are** at the same time, updates may be slow, but I'm going to be trying to implement a schedule. I've tried this before, but I'm hoping this time it'll work a little better. Anyways, I hope you liked the start to this fic, even though it's a little on the short side.

Oh, and I moved it to the Batman Comic category because this really doesn't have anything to do with th movie besides Rachel... I moved **Reflection of His Enemy** too.

**Next Chapter: Kiss Your Past Good-Bye. **Bruce's secret is finally revealed and everyone is furious. Everyone except Eleanor, who thinks it's the best thing that could have happened. Everyone thinks she's crazy.


	2. Chapter Two: Kiss Your Past Good Bye

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Two: Kiss Your Past Good-Bye

* * *

Shauna hadn't left the laboratory in almost three weeks. In total, her and Adam had been working away on the serum for two months now, and lately they'd gotten incredibly close, but the closer they got the more time they spent tinkering away, fine-tuning, and that always led to confinement to the lab. It wasn't solitary by any means, but Shauna was sick of looking at the white walls and she wanted to go home. Badly. She felt gross, and it wasn't for lack of showering—there were full house-like facilities in their prison—but she wasn't comfortable and that always made her feel gross and like she needed to get clean. Three weeks was the longest she'd ever been holed up in the almost-basement of Wayne Enterprises, and her and Adam were quickly approaching that mark; Adam had made it almost three _months _and Shauna and no idea how he'd done that. Maybe it was different for him? After all, Adam had been at Wayne Enterprises much longer than Shauna and the geeky engineer looked oddly at home amidst the weird inventions and mess that had built up around his work station over the years. Currently, Shauna and Adam were trying to get rid of the weird side-effects of injecting the rat. That was all that was left. Side-effects: blue fur and claws and a red ring around the outside of the eye.

"These side-effects aren't lethal, right?" Adam asked, peering at their latest test subject, who was still retaining the white-furred appearance of the rat in the picture. "We can present this to Mr. Wayne, right? He'll tell us if we have to keep going, won't he?" He stared at the rodent, almost willing it to do something interesting, to give them a sign that there was something more seriously wrong with the nanomachines.

Shauna sighed and scratched her scalp, dislodging several of her auburn hairs from their ponytail confinement. "I guess so…"

"I can get him to come down this afternoon, probably. He's coming in today—I'll just send a message up to Eleanor so she can tell him to get his butt down here." Adam ran his hand back and forth over his hair, turning the already messy pile into something very literally resembling an rat's nest. "We have accurate reports on these side-effects, don't we?" Adam didn't even wait for Shauna to answer or nod or anything. He bolted from the lab, moving overly fast as her was apt to do, and leapt over his desk, into his chair. The phone was at his ear before Shauna made it to her chair. "Hey Ellie. When Mr. Wayne comes in, can you get him to come down here?"

Shauna watched Adam nod, laugh and smile and just shook her head, a small smile of her own playing at her lips. Eleanor had been back at work for almost the same amount of time Shauna and Adam had been confined to the lab. Shauna had never seen Eleanor as happy as she was on her first day back at work, back in Gotham. Remembering their phone conversation, Shauna wondered at the girl's attachment to the city with all the crime and danger. Of course, she knew Eleanor was obsessed with Batman and that she was in love with Gotham's favoured son, but she didn't know if that would have been enough to keep her somewhere so… dark. The only reason Shauna had come to Gotham was for work—a job at Wayne Enterprises was second to none, and she loved her job, but when she left at night, she was usually terrified something was going to happen, that some masked freak was going to jump out of the shadows and blow her up or shoot her in the head or… something else equally frightening and hideous. Shauna had never asked Eleanor what it was about Gotham that kept her so patriotic to her city, and frankly, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know. Maybe it was a thing that came with being a native Gothamite, because Shauna had met quite a few who wouldn't leave their city even in times of crisis. There were those that would stick by Gotham through anything.

"Mr. Wayne will be down around three, according to our dear Eleanor up on the top floor," Adam said rhythmically, drawing Shauna out of her reverie.

"He and Ms. Black going out for lunch?"

"You know it. Either that or meetings, anyway. I didn't really ask her why. But I'm going to assume they have a lunch date." Adam smiled a little mischievously and then turned to his super-powerful computer and started tinkering away at something in the chemical makeup of the delivery serum, still content with his theory that it wasn't the nanomachines at all.

Shauna turned to her own desktop and started looking at the nanomachines themselves.

Three o'clock came rather quickly, time flying as usual as the engineers stayed absorbed in their work. Adam had his headphones in and was dancing in his chair, and was oblivious as the clicking of heels echoed down the hall from the elevator lobby. Shauna chucked her stress ball at him, the yellow smiley face hitting him square in the cheek and getting his attention, before she got out of her chair and headed around to the front of her desk, where she could properly greet the owner of the company and her best friend. It was another moment before the clicking heels made it to the work area—the hallway was unnecessarily long—and Eleanor Black and Bruce Wayne entered the room, chatting quietly, the former smiling widely, a red tint to her cheeks.

"Good afternoon Mr. Wayne," Shauna said, extending her hand.

Bruce nodded and shook the proffered hand. "Ms. Messer; Mr. Ross—I hope you two have some good news." He shook Adam's hand in turn.

"Actually, we've run into a sort of wall." Adam, forgetting himself as usual when he talking about one of his projects, turned and headed into the lab.

Shauna gestured for Bruce and Eleanor to go ahead, and she fell in beside her friend. "Do you know what he wants this for?" she asked at a whisper, leaning her head closer to Eleanor's ear.

"I don't even know what he's had you guys doing."

Something clicked in Shauna's mind, but it was a disturbing thought, and she ignored it, contenting herself with finding out if it was true before she freaked out. The little parade entered the white lab and crowded around the table where the white and blue rat—now grey and blue as it had reverted to his normal state, seemingly without any ill effects—was running around its cage in effortless circles. The creature jumped on the wheel and started running fast; faster than any rat had been able to run before. Adam fished the little guy out, and he came without a problem, which was something the engineers hadn't seen before: all the other subjects had seemed angry and irritable whenever one of them tried to get too close. Maybe they'd made more progress than they'd originally thought. Adam put the little guy into the smaller chamber where they could more easily observe him.

He pulled out the picture of the white rat and held it up to the wall.

The rat shifted colours seemingly without any pain or discomfort at all.

Eleanor's gasp was the only audible reaction. "Is _this _what you guys have been doing? Reinventing the nanomachines or something?!"

Shauna had to admit she hadn't expected Eleanor to pick it up that quickly, but then again, she probably had more experience with the nanomachines than anyone else in that room. But the woman didn't seem angry or scared or anything. She seemed curious, and that, in league with Shauna's suspicion as to the purpose of the redesigned nanomachines didn't bode well. Shauna watched Eleanor's face, seeing the familiar glint in the cobalt eyes. Shauna watched Bruce's face and saw something she wasn't sure she liked. She watched Adam's face, but he only looked pleased at the reaction.

"So what's this wall you mentioned, Mr. Ross?" Bruce asked.

"The blue fur and nails and the red around the eyes. We can't seem to get them to go away. The last five samples have all produced the same results." He gestured to the wall behind him, where the other blue and grey rats were running around. "This is the first rat who doesn't seem bothered at all. All of the other ones have nasty tempers and try and kill each other if they get too close." Almost as if on cue, a chorus of loud squeaks and snarls and other, more human-like sounds issued from the cages behind them.

"But this one seems normal other than the discolouration and the…" Bruce looked down at the rat who was in the process of turning himself around in the confinement chamber which, under normal circumstances would have been way too small to pull off such a manoeuvre. "Physical enhancements?"

Adam nodded, as did Shauna when the billionaire looked at her for a confirmation or disagreement.

"Well, put aside a batch of this serum, I guess, and then keep working at it." Bruce shrugged as if he didn't really care what they did, but Shauna knew her and Adam would follow his decision anyway. He may have acted like he didn't care at times, but the engineers both knew better. Bruce was incredibly smart, and no matter how well he hid it when he was in a board meeting upstairs, he never seemed to be able to manage the nonchalance of that persona down here, when they were discussing a new invention or idea. In the case of this project, Bruce didn't seem to try to hard to contain his excitement or knowledge. "Let me know if you make any more progress. It may be this is as far as you can change the serum."

Adam nodded again, excitement plain on his face. "We'll let you know, Mr. Wayne."

Shauna watched Bruce and Eleanor leave the lab, a unmistakable fear bubbling in her gut. She wasn't so sure that she wanted to know what the billionaire's plans were for the serum anymore.

* * *

Eleanor spun the computer chair in a lazy circle and watched the walls of the cave go by too fast to really identify what she was seeing, but not so fast as to make her dizzy or nauseous. As the chair slowed to a near halt, Eleanor put her bare feet up on the desk and crossed her ankles as she reclined in the chair. Bruce hadn't spoken to her about the reformatted nanomachines since they'd been down in the lab, which led to the suspicion that _that _had been Bruce's big secret. But why that? What did Eleanor have to do with the reformatted nanomachines? Well, she had a few ideas but didn't think any of them were plausible, so she was waiting for Bruce to tell her. At that moment, he was standing across from her at one of the tables, loading up his utility belt for that night's patrol. There was no buzz about the Joker or his henchwomen or Catwoman, but that didn't mean there wasn't a need for the Batman.

"When can I come with you?" she asked casually. It wasn't a phenomenal question coming from her. Since the episode with the Doppelganger, there'd been this unquenched excitement in Eleanor: when it came right down to it, she had loved running across the rooftops of Gotham. There was something you got when you were chasing someone that just didn't come out when you were running with your dog or down the street.

"You can't."

She sighed. The same answer every time. "All right. I'll be here then." There was no point in arguing with him before he went out on patrol. He didn't respond. He'd just leave, not wanting to get distracted by a fight with her; Eleanor had discovered that she was quite good at distracting Bruce. She'd also learned when she could get away with it and when—like before he was about to leave on patrol—it would be a bad time to try.

Eleanor waved as Bruce climbed into the Tumbler and the engine roared to life. As the beast of a vehicle drove towards the waterfall, Eleanor flicked several switches on machines on the computer desk, effectively "turning on" communications with Batman. If he needed to get in touch with her or Alfred, he could, and visa versa. It was a handy little system. But Eleanor didn't remain at the desk. She got to her feet and walked over to the area Bruce had designated for training. Bruce _had _been impressed with her attempts to educate herself in the way of self-defence, and had begun teaching her more complicated moves from the multitude of styles he was master of; he hardly ever bothered to tell her where a particular move was coming from, but she didn't really mind. The classes she'd taken in Metropolis were a combination of styles: mostly Shorin-ryu, with elements of Jiu-Jitsu thrown in for an acrobatic element. For only having been at it for a little while, Eleanor was quite adept at martial arts and Bruce had also been impressed with his progress.

Whether he knew it or not—and she was sure he did, because Bruce rarely did anything without knowing the consequences—he was preparing her to fight alongside him.

Eleanor sunk to a cross-legged position on the mat and folded her feet into the classic mediation position. That was the way Bruce had told her to start: to clear her mind. It was supposed to make it easier to learn and relax the person to the point of utter calm. It worked for Eleanor. It took Eleanor a lot longer to clear her mind than it took Bruce, but once she was sure she was at that point, she rose to her feet, without using her hands, because you never busy your hands, your weapons with something else when you're doing martial arts, and fell into a natural fighting stance to start running through the drills Bruce had set out for her. She started with a front kick.

Since her return form Metropolis three weeks ago, she'd pretty much lived at Wayne Manor. Blaze loved the expansive yard he had to run around in, and Eleanor being that close to Bruce, to Batman and everything having to do with him. Of course, she loved living in the gorgeous house too, with access to the libraries and the freedom to explore the place to her heart's content; Bruce wasn't hiding secrets from her anymore, so there was nothing for her to find that he didn't want her to. If that ever was the case, Eleanor was sure Bruce would find some way to keep it from her.

Along with the marital arts—Eleanor had switched to side kicks after thirty reps on each leg of the front kick—Bruce had also been teaching her about the equipment he had, both on the utility belt and in the cave. He hadn't been necessarily showing her how to use it all, but instead making sure she had a basic understanding so she could figure out how to use anything should the need arise. Eleanor was fascinated by everything pertaining to Batman, and enthusiastic to absorb whatever knowledge Bruce wanted to give her.

After thirty reps on each leg of the side kicks, Eleanor switch to roundhouse kicks, and then back kicks and then she took a break to grab a drink of water. Then she was back at it with punches, then the different kinds of blocks. And that was just the Shorin-ryu drills. She was practicing—and working out, because you never realize how much things like martial arts can take out of your until you start doing them seriously—for almost four hours, so when she sat down at the computer desk again, drying her face and neck with a towel, it was nearing half passed midnight. There was no noise from Batman, but just in case there was, she took the little black phone Bruce had given her when she'd headed off to Metropolis and headed upstairs to take a shower.

No phones she was responsible for answering rang while she was in the shower. After she was dry and dressed in her knee-length blue plaid pyjama pants and a black t-shirt about three sizes too big for her, Eleanor headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"After a midnight snack, Ms. Black?"

Startled, Eleanor jumped a bit before turning around. She smiled at Alfred and nodded.

"Anything particular you were tasting?"

She paused for a moment, thinking about the different tastes floating around her mouth. "Pancakes?"

Alfred chuckled, smiling his warm smile and immediately started moving about the kitchen, gathering the ingredients together to throw together the quick breakfast food. Knowing better than to try and help—more like interfere—while Alfred was cooking, Eleanor slid onto one of the bar stools placed against the high ledge wide enough to eat off of and leaned forward.

"Have you enjoyed your stay here so far Ms. Black?" he asked as he expertly whisked the batter until smooth.

"Of course." Eleanor smiled as her red Siberian Husky padded into the kitchen. "Blaze seems to like it here too." She reached down to scratch Blaze's ears. She had stopped trying to get Alfred to call her by her given name, as he always reverted to "Ms. Black" almost as soon as she told him not to call her that. She supposed she could get used to it, it was just weird to have someone outside of Wayne Tower call her Ms. Black. "Bruce doesn't want me to sell my loft though."

Alfred nodded as he dropped the first globs of batter into the sizzling pan. "There is not much sense in giving up a home which is paid for when something could… go awry here," he said, words carefully measured, and no doubt, Eleanor's possible reaction taken into account. Before she could say anything though, the elderly man continued. "I know you are convinced you will not be going anywhere, Ms. Black, and your determination has impressed me, but you can not predict the future, so, as they say, it's always better to be safe than sorry. I've noticed that Master Bruce has taken to sharing some of his wealth of knowledge with you," he said, changing the subject with ease.

Eleanor smiled and propped her cheek on one hand. "Yeah… it kind of feels like he's training me, but he keeps saying I can't go out with him on patrol." She sighed. "I don't know, I guess it's just hard to believe that he's showing me these things with the only goal my being able to protect myself better."

"While it is not unlike Master Wayne to have ulterior motives, you know as well as I do that it is pointless to try and guess what they may be. He will tell you when he's ready to have you know."

"I know, I know." Eleanor sat back as Alfred slid the plate of pancakes towards her. She picked up the syrup bottle and drizzled some of the amber liquid on the cakes before picking up her fork and digging in. "These are fabulous Alfred. Best pancakes I've ever had."

"Naturally."

* * *

Batman had to take a step back when the woman swung her purse at her attacker. He had intervened just in time and now had the dingy-looking man's arm twisted behind his back and a booted foot on the back of his calf, pinning him in place as he wrestled his other arm behind his back as well. The woman—young, blonde, conventionally pretty—swung her purse at the man's face again, landing a solid blow on the side. He howled in pain and she hit him again; the corner of Batman's mouth turned up in a barely noticeable smirk.

"Hey, aren't you going to stop her from assaulting me?!" the man barked at up his human handcuffs.

"Why should I?" he growled, slipping the plastic handcuffs in place on his thick wrists. He wouldn't have had to tell her to stop anyway, as the woman's purse ceased its swinging and she settled for standing in front of him with her arms crossed. She had already expressed her desire to wait for the police. Batman pushed the man to the ground as the flashing blue and red lights of the sirens appeared down the streets and fished his grappling hook from his belt.

"Thank you Batman," the woman said with the barest hint of shaking in her voice.

He gave the smallest nod before vanishing like a shadow. From the roof, he watched to make sure the police officers got the criminal into the cruiser and then he took off. What that woman had been doing wandering around Gotham at two in the morning, Batman couldn't be sure, but all that mattered was she was safe and the criminal was in the hands of Gotham's finest. As Batman dropped down into the alley where he'd parked the Tumbler, his phone buzzed. He pulled the device off his belt and pressed it to his ear.

"What?" he growled.

_"Master Bruce, it seems Mr. Ross and Ms. Messer have not been able to make anymore breakthroughs with the serum. Mr. Ross sounded very disappointed, but he was insistent you get the message as soon as I could get it to you." _

"Right. Thanks Alfred."

Batman returned the phone and climbed into the car, the engine flaring to life and water from a rather large puddle fanning out to the sides of the large vehicle. It was time to tell Eleanor what his plans for the serum were. He knew she'd be in the cave, whether she was awake or asleep. He'd been keeping her in the dark for months and now it was time she knew, because it directly affected her. The Tumbler roared through the city that was not— nor was it ever — really asleep, the noises from the engine echoing ominously down the empty back streets. He was pretty confident that Eleanor would be excited about his decision, but there was that slim chance she'd be against it. Bruce ignored said chance as he drove back to the familiar darkness of the cave. As he climbed out of the car, he noticed Eleanor's form curled up in the computer chair, a knit blanket, almost the same blue of her eyes, wrapped tightly around her; she'd found the blanket in a trunk in one of the unused bedrooms of the mansion.

As his boots hit the metal floor of the computer area, she stirred, smiling when she saw it. "How was patrol?" she asked as she stretched.

Bruce ignored the question and pulled the cowl off, setting it on the table. "Sleeping in the chair isn't good for your back." He removed the cape and laid it beside the cowl and looked down at her when she made no sarcastic remark or response whatsoever. She looked very tired. "It doesn't look like you're getting enough sleep."

"It doesn't look like _you're_ getting enough sleep."

Ah, there she was. "Do you know what I wanted the nanomachines fixed for?"

Eleanor shook her head and ran her fingers backwards through her hair. "I have no concrete ideas; just theories. Things floating around my head that I didn't dwell on because I didn't think they made much sense when pertaining to you."

Bruce nodded. One of her theories was probably the correct one, probably the first one she'd thought of, but, combined with the way he'd been acting, it was the one least likely to be true. He leaned on the desk and crossed his arms across his chest, his face falling into a serious expression, holding her eyes with his. "Eleanor… the nanomachines are for you."

She froze, her mouth open slightly and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. Bruce had a suspicion that he'd been right: she had thought of that possibility. After a minute, she fell back in the chair, a small noise escaping her lips. There was a second where fear crossed her face, pure terror, but it passed as she brought her hands to her face and started to laugh. It wasn't her normal laugh; it was higher in pitch and sounded slightly crazed. Maybe that slim chance was coming into play; maybe she wasn't excited like he'd thought she'd be. But just as he opened his mouth to say something—to retract, to offer an ultimatum, he didn't really know—she stopped laughing and looked at him, a small smirk on her face.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"After all the times you said I couldn't come with you, all the times you rejected my help, you were _planning _on helping me become something capable of fighting with you?"

Again he nodded. "I've had years of training. I know you want to help and I know you're not going anywhere Eleanor—I don't want you to go anywhere—but in order to… do this with me, you need an edge. You want to help now and there's no way you'd be able to learn sufficient skills to do that and I'm not about to let you put yourself in danger again." Bruce sighed as Eleanor rose from the chair, the movement effectively silencing him. She stood in front of him, but didn't say anything. "If you're injected with the nanomachines—now that Adam and Shauna have modified their makeup—you'll get all the enhancements without any of the deformations and side-effects that Ashlynn had. You'll be faster, stronger, more flexible—"

"Not to mention the ability to break my bones and put them back in place right away and the increased tolerance to pain." Eleanor smiled deviously and moved to stand closer to Bruce. "Did you think I'd be excited about becoming a vigilante?"

Bruce gave the barest of shrugs.

"Well where are the little buggers?"

* * *

**Author's Note  
**Kiss Your Past Good-Bye – Aerosmith

Great band. Great song.

I'm glad that all of you seem to like this one so far too. Ha, one chapter. I realize Eleanor may have seemed a little… different (maybe even Mary-Sueish) in the first chapter, but that won't be around for long. That was just to illustrate where her and Bruce currently are in their not-so-typical relationship and all that jazz. Eleanor will be back to her nasty, sarcastic self soon enough, don't you worry. And yes, I realize explaining my writing is a possible no-no, but I just wanted to make that clear.

**Next Chapter: You've Changed. **Eleanor gets injected. There's still no noise from The Joker, but Catwoman's moved on to another stash of diamonds. Batman's worried as Eleanor starts to experience a side-effect no one could have perdicted.


	3. Chapter Three: You've Changed

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Three: You've Changed

* * *

The idea that injecting herself with the nanomachines might be a _bad_ thing never even crossed Eleanor's mind.

She _wanted_ to be a vigilante; she wanted to have her name in the papers—oh, she was going to have to think of a name for herself and get herself a costume, now wasn't she?—have people whisper her name with the admiration they did Batman's, and most of all, above all the cool things being a hero would bring about, she wanted to help; she'd be lying if she thought that was the only reason, even if it only was the only _real _reason. Eleanor wanted to help Bruce, to help Batman, in his fight for justice. She wanted to be running across rooftops again, stopping some crazy from wreaking havoc on the city. On his city. Yes, Gotham was Batman's city, but it was also Eleanor's. This was where she'd grown up, where she'd lived her whole life. She loved Gotham and she wanted to protect it at Batman's side.

The excitement faded slightly as she thought about doing just that. Of putting her life on the line night after night for people she didn't know… It was daunting, it was frightening, but she wanted to do it. There was no second guessing _that _decision. Bruce obviously had faith that she'd be able to do this, once she had the help from the nanomachines, and Bruce's faith in her was all she really needed; he was the only one who knew what he was talking about, anyways. He understood her. If he believed she could do it, she could. She would. She wouldn't let him down. She wouldn't betray his faith. She would show him what she was capable of.

Another thought dawned: she would have to keep her identity secret. Could she do that? Could she _not _tell Adam or Shauna or her parents what she was up to? Could she bare only have Bruce and Alfred know what she did every night?

She'd have to.

There was no question. She'd just have to.

There were a lot of things she'd just have to do.

She sat back in the computer chair and sighed. Bruce was changing out of the Batsuit and retrieving the case with the serum in it from its hiding place; Eleanor may have spent hours upon hours in the Batcave, but she still hadn't found all the nooks and crannies Bruce had adapted to his vigilante life. Not that she minded by any means. Eleanor knew Bruce would always have his privacy, regardless of how close she managed to get to him, to Batman, to his life. She thought it was rather funny how far he'd spread out in the cave, how he stashed things in badly lit corners until they were needed or he found some time to set up another platform or install more lights; he was actually planning some construction work soon and Eleanor had—if a little reluctantly—agreed to help in whatever way she could; she wasn't particularly handy with tools or anything, but she was sure Bruce would be able to find something she could do without getting too much in the way. Moving materials or something. Manual labour. She'd need that. She'd need the strength. Or would she? From what she'd seen of the nanomachines in action, she would get quite a bit of strength from the little things.

Bruce, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, returned from the shadows and placed a wooden box on the desk, his arrival drawing Eleanor out of her thoughts and back into the present. The case was just used to keep the needle from breaking, but sitting there on top of the metal desk, it looked oddly ominous. Hell, it was ominous. That little box held Eleanor's future. It held what she would become. That little box _was _Eleanor's future. Eleanor and Bruce just stared at it, fear building in Eleanor's gut along with anticipation and eagerness and joy. Bruce stood slightly behind the chair, one hand on the back of it, keeping it from moving, from spinning side to side like Eleanor was apt to do when she was thinking, when she was nervous. After a moment, Eleanor reached forward and drew the box into her lap, flicking the catches and lifting the lid to reveal the high gauge needle with the purplish liquid sloshing inside, sitting in a block of Styrofoam that had a section cut out to keep the needle itself from moving around and/or breaking. She gently touched the body of the needle, chewing on the corner of her lip; her movements were tight, slightly frantic. She was sure this was what she wanted—more than sure—and she trusted that Adam and Shauna had done whatever they could to make the nanomachines safe, but she suddenly couldn't get the image of Ashlynn—hunched, deformed, broken, and insane—out of her head. She didn't want to end up like that.

Another moment passed before Eleanor turned her face up to look at Bruce. "Will you do it?" she asked, voice quiet, timid, quite unlike her.

For a second, Eleanor thought Bruce was going to say no, but then he sighed and nodded.

He disappeared into the shadows of the cave, gone to get one of the first-aid kits Alfred had diligently stocked; his hand lingered on her shoulder as he passed. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture. The vigilante returned, white metal box in one hand, and a placid look on his face, like usual. There was a faint undercurrent of apprehension. Without saying anything though, he pulled a stool from under the desk and sat at her right arm, the kit open on the desk behind him. He pulled the tourniquet out and tied it around her bicep, his fingers feeling for the vein; Adam and Shauna had deduced a quicker delivery via the bloodstream—the nanomachines would work if they were just injected into the flesh, but they would work much, much slower. Once the vein had jumped up and he'd cleaned and disinfected the area, Bruce picked up the needle and positioned it above her skin.

"You _are_ sure about this?" Bruce asked, looking up at her. His voice was different than normal. It was softer, quieter, and a tone only reserved for speaking to her and Alfred, and Rachel, when she'd still lived in Gotham. It was for people he cared about.

Eleanor let out a rather shaky sigh and nodded. As sure as was, she _was_ nervous. Sure, the serum worked on rats, but would it work on her? Would she be fine, or would she turn into a deformed mass like Ashlynn did? She was happy with where her life was—living at Wayne Manor, close to Bruce—but she wanted to do more to help. Even though her parents hadn't been killed, they _had_ been attacked and she, like Bruce, didn't want anyone to have to go through that pain of feeling helpless; of feeling useless. She wanted to help Batman fight for Gotham. Eleanor fixed her cobalt blue eyes on Bruce and nodded in the most determined way she could.

"Yes. Yes, I want this. I want to help you," she said, trying and failing to keep her voice even.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, squeezed her hand gently and then placed the tip of the needle against her vein. He depressed the plunger and removed the tourniquet and Eleanor winced as that familiar pinch shot up her arm and the fluid rushed into her bloodstream, pain along with it. The pain faded. There was a rush of light-headedness and warmth and Eleanor closed her eyes and leaned her head back, groaning slightly. Bruce withdrew the needle.

"Are you OK?"

Eleanor nodded, running the fingers of her left hand backwards through her hair as she flexed her right hand and rotated her wrist. Bruce pressed a wad of gauze over the hole and secured it with a band-aid. "Just light-headed." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "I'll be fine in a minute. I haven't had much sleep or anything to drink in a while, so that might be why."

Almost as if to confirm her hypothesis, she yawned noisily. When her mouth closed, she opened it to say something else, but instead of words, she gaped. A strangled noise slipped from her throat.

She couldn't breathe.

Eleanor clasped at her throat, her other hand latching onto Bruce's wrist with vice-like strength. Her body gave a violent lurch and she let out another strangled scream; her lips were starting to turn blue. She barely heard as Bruce called for Alfred. The edges of Eleanor's vision were starting to fog over and she tried to scream.

"Ellie, try and calm down. Try and calm down so you can breathe."

She wanted to yell at him, tell him she was in too much pain to calm down, but she couldn't, so she settled for a glare and tried to ignore the tightening pain in her chest. She tried to take in a breath, but that only hurt more. She passed out.

And then she came to and screamed.

She could breathe, and it burned. Her body was on fire.

Her body convulsed and she screamed more.

The heat was consuming her. She was hot and uncomfortable and in incredible pain. She couldn't see straight, she couldn't think. She was burning. Her skin was peeling away, her blood and brain boiling. She was dying. The only thing crossing her mind was: _It was a mistake. I'm dying. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm dying. I'm sorry I made you do this._ _I'm sorry. Sorry. _She screamed again and again, her voice bouncing off the cave walls and earning a chorus of flapping bat wings and high-pitched squeaks in reply. Blackness started to creep into her mind again, an unbearable fog, but the pain continued. She was not aware of Bruce and Alfred hovering about her, trying to figure out a way to help, to calm her down, to take away the pain. There was another pinch in her arm—a veritable pleasure compared to the fire—and the blackness took over. Blissfully, she stopped hurting.

But Eleanor's body kept writhing about the chair. She kept screaming. Even when her throat was torn to shreds and blood had started to appear in her mouth, she kept it up. Even though she was passed out and logically shouldn't be able to; the nanomachines were controlling her. Her fingers of her one hand were digging into the arm rests of the chair like she was holding on for dear life and the other hand still held onto Bruce, like he was her only tentative line to sanity.

Ten minutes later, Eleanor had finally stopped screaming.

Her body had gone limp in the computer chair, and she actually seemed to be asleep, maybe even at peace.

Bruce stood at her side, looking down at her. He had done this. It had been his idea to inject her with the nanomachines. She was stable at the moment, biologically fine. Even when she'd been screaming, the only things wrong that Alfred had been able to detect were an elevated heart rate and slightly elevated temperature: the former due to fear and the latter due to the nanomachines coursing through her body. He had expected the latter reaction. Regardless: he had done this.

Maybe he should have stuck to training her the old-fashioned way. But no, that wouldn't have worked. Eleanor would have gone along with that for a while, but eventually she would have gotten restless and she would have jumped in too soon and she would have gotten herself seriously hurt or killed. The nanomachines provided a way for her to skip the years of conditioning and toning and strength-building and just leave the task of learning the moves to defend herself, something she was already excelling at, but if Ashlynn's abilities had been of any indication, the nanomachines instilled a sort of instinct that would have had to have been learned over a lifetime as well.

Those screams had not been fake. And they'd hurt him to hear.

Bruce brushed some hair out of her face and placed the underside of his wrist against her forehead and then her cheek. Her temperature was normal now. Her chest was rising and falling at a normal rate. He had a sneaking suspicion her current peaceful state would be broken as soon as the morphine Alfred had injected wore off, but for the moment, she was fine.

"Master Bruce, if you'd care to get a few hours rest, I will stay with Ms. Black."

"I'm going to move her upstairs first."

"Very well, sir."

Bruce slipped his arms under her limp form and pulled her up and in towards his chest. Her head rolled to the side, coming to rest on his shoulder and a small noise escaping her lips. He headed across the cave to the elevator and then up into the manor and down the hall from the study to the large bedroom with the blue walls and dark wood that Eleanor loved and had inhabited along with the library, the chair in the cave and the left side of his own bed since she'd moved into the manor; she was veritably everywhere and he was surprised how little he minded. Bruce laid her gently on the bed and tucked her under the thick comforters, gazing idly at the stuffed, teal-coloured bat that never seemed to move from the pillow on the other side of the bed. He checked her temperature again before he returned to his own room next door to catch however many zees he could before it was time to get up and go into Wayne Enterprises for another meeting. Or something.

* * *

Alfred had disagreed with many of the choices his charge had made, but this one was close to the top of the list. He sat in the chair by the window in Eleanor's room, keeping an eye on the young woman, ready to administer more morphine if she should need it. Alfred didn't try to understand all the reasoning behind Bruce's decision to inject those nanomachines into Eleanor, but he was a gentleman's gentleman and he would do whatever it was he could do to help. No matter how much he disliked the idea. And Eleanor had wanted to be injected with the nanomachines. It was not his place to question what she wanted. He had made his opinions known to Bruce, however. For all the difference that had made.

Eleanor started to stir on the bed, drawing Alfred's attention away from the well-worn book of poetry he'd been reading. He freed another syringe and bottle of the clear liquid from the bag at his feet and walked over the bedside. But Eleanor wasn't screaming. Her eyes were open and she was looking around, confused. But not like she was in pain.

"Ms. Black," Alfred said, relief creeping into the edges of his voice. "How do you feel?"

She paused, trying to work through the morphine-induced fog to assess her physical situation and answer the question. "I… It hurts."

"Where the pain localized?"

"No where… I just hurt." She squirmed a bit, wincing as she did so. "But… it's bearable."

Alfred frowned, sensing she was in more pain than she was letting on: an ability she seemed to be adopting from the man sleeping in the next room over. Alfred raised an eyebrow at looked down at her. "Now, Ms. Black, if you are in pain, you need to let me know so I can help you. There is an intravenous needle in my kit and I can hook you up to a morphine drip if you so desire. Or, I can leave you to deal with your pain as you seem keen on doing."

Eleanor looked up at the elderly man, a faint glint of her usual sarcasm in her eyes. "Fine."

As Alfred set about hooking her into the drip, they were joined by the only other human inhabitant of the mansion; Blaze was sleeping in the back hall, which had decided to claim as his own. Bruce appeared at the foot of Eleanor's bed and remained silent as Alfred hung the bag from the all-too-convenient hook-like formation on the headboard. Noticing his charge's arrival, Alfred took it upon himself to retire for a few hours; even the best gentleman's gentleman needed to get some sleep, even if he did work for the forerunner in staying awake for excessively long periods of time.

Bruce stood at the edge of the bed. "How are you?"

"Sore. How long have I been unconscious?" Her voice was fuzzy, like she wasn't really sure of what she was saying.

"A few hours."

"What happened?"

"You started screaming after I injected you with the nanomachines."

"Oh… Did any… thing…" Eleanor's eyes closed and she slumped back against the pillows, asleep.

* * *

Neither Eleanor or Bruce had shown up at the office that day. For Bruce, that wasn't that strange, but Eleanor hardly ever missed a day of work.

Shauna hadn't slept since Bruce Wayne had taken the completed sample of the nanomachines serum from the lab. She was worried about her friend, worried that something incredibly, irreversibly bad would happen to Eleanor, but she hadn't had a chance to go and see her yet. But today, today there was time. Today, after she had finished the report for Lucius, she would go to Wayne Manor and she would find Eleanor and she would make sure she was OK. And if she wasn't… Well, Shauna didn't know what she'd do if Eleanor wasn't OK. What do you do to a billionaire playboy who was only doing something because he probably thought it would keep Eleanor safe? Shauna would get mad, that's what she'd do. She'd yell and scream and probably get herself kicked out of the manor. If something had gone wrong, Bruce would probably feel bad enough already, but that didn't mean Shauna wasn't going to make it worse. Eleanor's right-and-wrong filter didn't work so well when it came to anything having to do with Batman or the possibility of helping Batman. Bruce should have known better.

"Are you OK, Shauna?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, you've been squeezing that stress ball for the last fifteen minutes and your face is all red." Adam raised an eyebrow as his auburn-headed colleague tossed the offending smiley-face ball on the floor. "What's wrong?"

Adam still didn't know her suspicions, so she lied. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. I'm, er, going to duck out early, OK?"

"Sure?"

"Thanks. Bye."

Shauna abandoned the half-finished report, knowing that she'd have to think up some lie for Lucius tomorrow, and headed out to the elevator lobby. Still in her lab coat, she ran into the parking garage and over to her lime green car and was off and driving almost faster than she could blink. She'd only ever been to Wayne Manor once, for the disastrous Christmas party the year before, but she drove like she knew the route blindfolded. Through the city. Over the bridge. Into the countryside where Wayne Manor and its expansive grounds resided. Up the long drive way, to the larger than life front doors. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. The butler—Alfred?—came and opened the door.

"May I help you?"

"Yes you may. Where's Eleanor?"

"Ms. Black is upstairs."

Without waiting for anymore information, any invitation inside, Shauna rushed up the wide staircase and plunged down the hall, looking in all the rooms. Finally, she found her friend, asleep in a very blue room, hooked up to what looked like a morphine drip. Her skin was pale, eyes and cheeks sunken in. Generally, she looked like absolute shit. Shauna walked slowly to stand beside the bed. She looked down at the inside of Eleanor's elbow, exposed on top of the blankets and saw the band-aid underneath the injection site for the morphine drip. Saw it and knew there were now millions if not billions of nanomachines swimming through Eleanor's bloodstream, altering her DNA, biologically changing the young woman into some sort of supernatural freak of regular nature.

But none of the rats, save those at the very, very beginning, had even seemed to experience pain after being injected.

A small noise behind her made her turn. Standing behind her was the object of her ire. "What the hell have you done?" she snarled, voice no higher than a whisper.

Bruce Wayne didn't reply.

"What have you done to her? Why the hell did you inject her with those damn nanomachines?" Shauna advanced on the billionaire, reason and rational thought flying from her mind. "What were you _thinking?_" she demanded, articulating each word with a jab of her finger to his chest.

Bruce still didn't say anything, just watched her calmly.

"How can you stand there so calm? Aren't you freaking out? What if she doesn't get better? What if you've condemned her to a life of perpetual pain?"

"Shauna."

The irate engineer whirled on her heel and stared at her friend who was staring back at her from under half-closed lids. "No, no, no. I don't want to hear it—I _know _what you're going to say! You're going to say it was all your idea or your were OK with it; you wanted this. You're going to try and take them blame away from him! He did this to you! He was planning to inject you with the nanomachines from the beginning!" Shauna could feel the tears burning behind her eyes at the stupidness of Bruce's idea to inject Eleanor and at the stubbornness of Eleanor for thinking it was OK, for going along with it. Was she the only one who saw the craziness of all this? "What _are_ you two thinking? This can _not_ be a good idea!"

Eleanor let out a loud undignified huff. "You don't know what you're talking about," she managed. "Go." She was almost wheezing, almost gasping for air. "Both of you. Go."

Shauna blinked. And then she left the room. Bruce followed, shutting the door quietly. Her anger returned though and she turned her face back to Bruce. The billionaire looked very different than she'd ever seen him before. He wasn't acting the fool, he wasn't smiling. His face was completely blank and he stared at the door. His arms were crossed over his chest. This was not the Bruce Wayne of the public world, this was who he really was. Shauna leaned against the wall. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"No."

"Well is she going to be OK?"

Bruce sighed. "I don't know. Besides the pain, she seems fine."

"She seemed angry."

He nodded.

"This was a very, incredibly, ridiculously stupid idea." Shauna sank to her butt on the floor and brought her knees to her chest, taking deep breaths in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, long and slow and controlled. "What were you thinking?" she asked again, whispering this time.

"It's none of your business."

"Yes it is. She's my friend. I helped do this."

"She'll tell you, then."

Shauna huffed. "Whatever." She pulled her phone out of her purse and dialled Lucius Fox's personal cell number, something she was only supposed to do in emergency situation. She was pretty sure this qualified as an emergency.

_"Hello. This is Lucius Fox."_

"It's Shauna."

_"What can I do for you?"_

"There's been an incident you ought to know about." Shauna looked up at Bruce, but he wasn't paying any attention to her. Or at least, he didn't look like he was. He was staring at Eleanor's door still, a bizarre look on his face. Nevertheless, Shauna dropped her voice and whispered, "Eleanor has been injected with the… project Adam and I were working on. I'm at Wayne Manor now. I think you should—hey! Give me back my phone!" Shauna glared at Bruce and grabbed for the small purple flip-phone, but couldn't get to her feet fast enough to take it back.

"You don't need to come, Lucius."

Shauna moved closer so she could hear the other side of the conversation. _"What have you done, Bruce? You don't know the full extent of the complications that could arise from this! No one does! Shauna and Adam have only been working on the serum for a few months; there could be serious consequences to this! What if Eleanor's body rejects the nanomachines? She could be killed from this! What were you thinking?" _Shauna was surprised that Mr. Fox could keep her voice so level when he was obviously very angry. _"I'm coming over. If there's something wrong—and I'm judging from Shauna feeling the need to call my cell phone that there is—maybe I can do something to help."_

"Don't tell her parents."

_"Is that all you have to say?" _Shauna heard him sigh and she could picture the African American man pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. _"I won't tell Liam and Naomi, but if anything happens to her, I'm not going to lie." _

"If anything happens to her, I'll tell them myself." Bruce hung up the phone and handed it back to Shauna. Without looking at her, he said, "There was no need to call Lucius. You can stay with her if you want—if she'll let you—but don't do anything like that again." When he finally looked at her, there was pleading in his eyes and it greatly disturbed Shauna. Why should Bruce Wayne want something form her? "Please."

Shauna nodded and then knocked on the door, closing it behind her again when she was admitted.

* * *

Eleanor watched Shauna cross the room, her eyes narrowed in a glare as her friend sat down on the edge of the bed. For a long time, neither one of them said anything, and Bruce had the good sense to stay out of the way; this might get loud and Eleanor didn't want to have to fight the urge to yell at Bruce anymore—this wasn't his fault, as much as he thought it was. Eleanor didn't want to yell at Shauna, either, but there was the pressure in her chest, like her anger or frustration or whatever it was, was taking on a physical form and trying to force its way out of her. Forcing to stay inside was hurting her, even though the morphine cloud, but she really, really didn't want to yell at anyone else. Right before Shauna had shown up, Eleanor had spent a good fifteen minutes yelling at Bruce for thinking it was his fault she was in so much pain and pretty much confined to her bed. And then she had yelled at him for standing there and taking her yelling at him and not fighting back. And then she had yelled because she had a headache. She had blamed _that _on him for some reason; she really didn't think logic and rationality was at her beck and call right then, thanks to the blinding pain and the morphine.

Shauna placed her hand on Eleanor's leg and squeezed gently, the contact causing a tingling sensation that didn't hurt. It was just weird. "I should have said something as soon as I got suspicious—hell, I should have said something when he asked Adam and I to fix the damn nanomachines…" She sighed.

"Shauna, this isn't your fault," Eleanor snapped. When she saw the look of hurt cross Shauna's face, she closed her eyes and turned away. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine… It's probably just the nanomachines changing your biochemistry or whatever it is they're doing." Shauna turned her pale blue eyes to her friend. "I know you want to take all the blame for this, but you really shouldn't. I'm pretty sure Bruce knew you wouldn't say no—"

"For fuck's sake, would you _please stop blaming this on Bruce!_" Eleanor groaned as her head pounded with the effort of raising her voice, but she waved of Shauna's words of concern. "This is not his fault. Trust me, OK? You don't know what you're talking about." She ran her fingers backwards through her hair, sighed and shifted as though she were incredibly uncomfortable, which she was. "These nanomachines are good for me—or they will be, in any case, once I get passed this bump. They'll help me. You just have to be patient and wait. _I _know what I'm doing. _Bruce _knows what he's doing. And do you _really _think I would do this if I didn't trust your abilities? And Adam's?" Shauna opened her mouth to say something else, but Eleanor was quicker. "_Don't say anything else about Bruce_," she growled.

Shauna got to her feet then. "I'm going to go… I'll stop by soon."

As the engineer left the room, Eleanor sunk deeper into her pillows and sighed, closing her eyes. She didn't even say anything when Bruce re-entered the room, Lucius Fox in tow.

* * *

Catwoman had got away.

Batman had finally been able to intercept the burglar as she escaped from the penthouse she'd just robbed, but he'd let her get away. He knew why: he hadn't been able to focus. Just like when the Doppelganger had taken on Eleanor's appearance all those months before, he had been distracted. Knowing that Eleanor was lying in bed, in pain had been a fact he hadn't been able to shake. When he'd looked her over the previous afternoon, Lucius had said she was fine and he was pretty sure the pain would subside once the nanomachines had finished their work.

But Catwoman had got away along with the necklace she'd stolen, and he was pretty sure the papers would be all over this tomorrow. They always were, regardless of how late at night or early in the morning things happened.

Bruce sighed and pulled off the cowl as he settled back in his computer chair.

"I take it things didn't go well."

He spun the chair around and looked at Eleanor, who was walking across the cave, barefoot as always, propped up on a wheeled metal stand holding her morphine. "What are you doing down here? You should be in bed, resting."

"I know, but that was boring. I'm feeling better anyways."

"You're on morphine. How do you know how you're feeling?"

She shot him a glare that wasn't in the least bit sarcastic. "_I'm fine,_" she hissed. Eleanor made her way over and stood in front of him. "I'm sick of lying in bed so I got up to come down here and see you." She sat down on the stool and moved closer to the chair, to him. "So, like I said before, I take it things didn't go well."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Eleanor's temper had been getting worse. "No. She got away." He didn't tell her why because he had a feeling she'd yell at him. She'd been doing a lot of yelling lately. "I'm going to change and then get some sleep." He pushed himself off the chair. Eleanor got off the stool, wincing as she did so and he took her arm. "Come on. You may be fine, but I still think you should get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Ellie."

"I want to be taken off the morphine, Bruce."

"No. Not yet."

"Take me off the morphine!"

"No."

Eleanor eyes narrowed again and Bruce could have sworn the familiar cobalt blue started darkening to purple or red. "Take me off the morphine." Her voice shook with anger; Bruce had never heard her like this before. He just glared back at her and eventually, after what seemed like hours, she backed down, and her cheeks darkened, like she was embarrassed, like she'd just realized how she'd spoken to him. "Bruce… I…" She blinked and rubbed her eyes with one hand. The colour drained from her face and she swayed slightly. "I don't think I'm fine…"

Bruce caught her as she passed out.

* * *

**Author's Note**

You've Changed – Eva Cassidy

Eva Cassidy has a beautiful voice for the jazz/blues classics. Wonderful.

This chapter is a forerunner for the tempers and yelling and anger to come. And yes, I will be attempting to write from Catwoman's point of view in the future, but I was having some trouble with it and I need to do some more reading into her character before I attempt that, because she's one of my favourite characters and I want to do her justice. I will also be writing more action, but it just hasn't been in me lately, so you'll have to bear with me. There will be some action in the next chapter, I promise.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter. (smiles)

**Next Chapter: Lurking In The Darkness. **Eleanor gets run through her paces. That's all I'm saying. (grin)


	4. Chapter Four: Lurking in the Darkness

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Four: Lurking in the Darkness

* * *

**PLEASE READ**

This is just a little reminder that _Reflection of His Enemy _and _Joke's On You_ have NOTHING to do with _Superhero's Confidante _and _Chances Are…_. The fics that are in first person follow the movies and the others are just makings of mine. Just a reminder, because some people seem to be confused… Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Eleanor spent the majority of the next week in bed and stewing in what was largely unfounded anger.

After she had passed out in the Batcave, Bruce had carried her upstairs and laid her in the bedroom that had quickly become hers. He'd sat with her for a long time, wondering—not for the first time by any means—if he had done something horribly wrong by getting Shauna and Adam to reengineer the nanomachines; if he had done something wrong in allowing Eleanor as close as he had. Wisely, Alfred and Lucius had said nothing about their opinions on the subject, and had left Bruce to keep an eye on the veritably comatose Eleanor. As the third day of her state of unconsciousness drew to a close and as Bruce donned the bat-shaped cowl, he wondered if she'd wake up at all, or, if she woke up, would she be the same.

He got his answer soon enough.

When he returned to the mansion proper, early, early in the morning, the first thing he heard was Eleanor's voice, amplified and echoing through the halls. The second thing he heard was several loud barks. Confused and more than a little alarmed, he headed down the hall from the study at a quick clip to find the blue-eyed woman sitting up in bed, having a heated argument with her dog. The morphine line was twisted around the post of the headboard, cutting off her supply of pain medication. She looked livid and didn't calm down at all when Bruce had untwisted the line. Instead, she yelled at him for something he wasn't exactly sure of.

And that had just been the beginning.

When she felt well enough, Eleanor would get up and wander through the manor, acting completely out of character, dragging her morphine drip behind her and mumbling incoherently to herself. Her face seemed permanently in a scowl. She ignored Blaze, who trotted faithfully behind her on her treks, and she yelled at Bruce every chance she got, fighting with him about the smallest and most pointless things. Even when Lucius—a man she normally got along with very well—came to check up on her and how she was handling the nanomachines, she wasn't herself. She fought his every attempt to check her temperature or draw blood or anything he wanted to do. The only person she didn't yell at or fight with was Alfred and none of the men could figure out why. The butler was the only one who could get her to eat, drink and cooperate with the medical proceedings and he took all the phone calls that came for her, keeping up the explanation that she was very sick and couldn't entertain visitors. It was what they had decided to tell her parents and Adam to try and keep anyone from worrying too much or prying. Naomi had been slow to accept that she couldn't come and see her daughter, but eventually, with persuasion from Liam and Alfred, two men she trusted, had decided to let the butler take care of Eleanor; Alfred had promised Naomi could see her as soon as she was better. In other words, when her temper had subsided and Eleanor could interact without yelling at the top of her voice. They had tried to tell Shauna that she was sick from interaction with the nanomachines, but the engineer was sure there was something else involved. She had promised not to voice any of her suspicions, but she wouldn't take any of the lies Bruce and Alfred and Lucius formulated.

On the morning of the fourth day of her "sickness", Eleanor woke up blessedly pain free. Thinking it was just the morphine acting in tune with that just-woke-up comfort people sometimes experience—you know, the one that makes you want to stay in bed all day—she peered at the drip hanging on the headboard. The bag had run dry. And she was pain free. She pulled the bag closer to her sleep-blurred eyes. It was definitely empty. For the first time in a week, Eleanor smiled. She even laughed a bit, waking Blaze who had been asleep at the foot of her bed. Once the husky had gauged Eleanor wasn't going to yell or anything, he jumped up onto the bed and licked her face exuberantly.

"Hey boy," Eleanor said, wrapping her arms around the dog's neck and pressing her face into his thick fur. "Shall we go tell Bruce the good news?" Blaze licked her face again and she took the gesture of affection for a yes.

It was only four in the morning, which meant Bruce was either in the cave looking through byte after byte of information or tinkering with some piece of Batman's copious arsenal or asleep. Since his bedroom was right next door to hers, she decided to try there first even though she thought it was the place he was the least likely to be. Eleanor pulled the IV needle out of her arm, preparing herself to wince, but she felt no pain. She blinked, confused, but shook it off before climbing out of bed and stretching her arms up towards the ceiling. When she brought her arms down past her eyes, she searched for a bruise or droplet of blood, but there was nothing. Not even that tiny hole usually left by metal penetrating the skin. There were probably going to be a lot of weird occurrences now that she'd seemingly adapted to the nanomachines in her system; why should she freak out about them all? With Blaze at her side, Eleanor ventured into the hall and down to the double doors of Bruce's room. As she passed one of the large portraits hanging in the panelled hall, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. She looked a lot healthier than she had in days—at least, going by Alfred's assessment—but the rat's nest of hair on top of her head and the tired blur to her face deterred from said assessment. Eleanor smiled at herself and proceeded into the billionaire's bedroom without changing a thing about the way she looked.

Bruce was indeed asleep in his room and not holed up in the cave—strangely enough—and lying perfectly still on his back, just as he always slept; his chest moving up and down the only sign that he wasn't actually dead. As quietly as she could manage, Eleanor climbed onto the bed beside him and nestled herself into the mound of pillows he put there since he once used one. Blaze curled up on the floor beside the bed as Eleanor rolled slowly sideways to lock her eyes onto Bruce. She knew he'd wake up after feeling her eyes on him for a minute or two. She'd discovered that little trick a while ago, and was sure it was some product of all his mysterious training and the life he'd lived away from Gotham. What part of that training, she wasn't sure, but she didn't really care. All she knew was that it worked. Sure enough, a few minutes after she'd settled herself onto the bed, Bruce opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her, half-buried in pillows. As the sleep-stupor vanished from his face in a matter of seconds, a confused look took over.

"Good morning," Eleanor whispered as she leaned forward and smiled.

"Good morning." Bruce pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard and raised an eyebrow at her.

"By that confused look on your face, I'm assuming you were expecting me to yell. Or something. Well, that's not going to happen. Sorry about all the yelling, by the way," she added, almost as an afterthought. Eleanor grinned wider and leaned closer to Bruce, shoving a few pillows off the bed to make her movements easier. "And, I'll have you know I'm feeling perfectly… well, _perfect _now, so I won't be tearing your head off again anytime soon. Well, at least not because of the nanomachines."

"No pain?"

"Nope," she said, popping the last syllable of the word.

"Are you sure?"

Energetic and rather giddy, Eleanor flopped down on the bed, her head and shoulders across Bruce's knees and her cobalt eyes, returned to their former glory and sans any red or purple tinge, glued to his. "Positive. The morphine bag was empty when I woke up a few minutes ago and I felt nothing except _fine_. I didn't even feel it when I pulled the needle out of my arm." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Bruce took her arm in his hands and examined the site where the needle had been embedded. There was still no mark. "Looks like I've picked up some beneficial traits already," she observed with the same beaming grin.

"Looks like it. Are you sure you're feeling better?" he asked, his voice quieter. He ran his fingers lightly down her arm.

Eleanor put her hands on the bed beside Bruce's legs and pushed herself up so her face was close to his and she was in a half-leaning position. "Yes. I'm sure, Bruce." She stared at him intently and candidly for a moment before she threw her arms around him suddenly and kissed him. When she pulled back, there was an even more jubilant smile on her face. "Now can you _please _teach me how to use the batgadgets?"

* * *

Selina Kyle idly ran her long fingers through the fur on her cat's back as she flicked through the copious amounts of channels available to her on her satellite. Beside her, the black feline named Isis purred and curled deeper into the ball she had twisted into, enjoying the familiarity of the situation. Selina wasn't really looking for anything specific on television, but she was bored and getting restless of just sitting around her lovely Gotham apartment in the new building of luxury apartments built by Wayne Enterprises. After her close encounters with Batman—once he'd even managed to handcuff her to a pipe, but she'd escaped with some miraculous move she hadn't even known she knew—she, _Catwoman, _wasn't keen on going out again so soon; she wasn't sure she'd be so lucky as to escape from the Caped Crusader again. She'd been insanely lucky with how she managed to avoid capture up until this point, and didn't want to test her luck. After all, nine lives can only get a kitty so far.

As she passed one of the news channels, she paused, her attention drawn out of her reliving her near-captures and focused firmly on the screen.

The image currently on the screen was a reporter standing in front of the Gotham Museum of Natural History, a banner hanging across the entrance of the large building advertising an exhibit of the Cats of Ancient Egypt. Naturally curious, Selina dropped the remote on the end table and watched in earnest as images of the various statues, totems and hieroglyphic carvings of the feline figures flicked across the screen and the reporter explained something briefly about the most treasured; her fingers ran through her cat's fur a little more vigorously. The man-on-scene mentioned something about the figurative crown jewel of the exhibit and another snapshot filled the screen. The statue was, as they all were, of a seated cat, but the face and ears of it were different. They weren't as pointed as the standard Egyptian cats. The animal was carved of some dark stone that shimmered faintly in the light, unlike the others, and its eyes were two perfectly round rubies. Around its neck hung the usual accoutrement of gold chains, but one of the collars ended in a teardrop ruby of the same brilliance as the eyes.

It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Its uniqueness called to her.

She had to have it.

"Isis, my darling, it looks like I might have to go out after all…" Yes, first a reconnaissance mission and then the actual robbery… if she could pull off the first without being sighted by Batman, she might have a chance at the second. And she _would need _the first as there was no doubt the museum would have upped security for the substantial and priceless collection.

She couldn't let that beautiful statue get away, now could she?

* * *

Bruce did teach Eleanor how to use the badgadgets. And she impressed him.

Her newfound, nanomachines-induced abilities seemed almost specifically geared towards the use of said gadgets. Everything she tried—throwing gas capsules, flash-bangs, grappling up and down, and, after a momentary lapse of fear, swinging across a vast expanse of cave floor on the line—she impressed at, even if she didn't do so well. One of the gas capsules exploded in her face, but didn't knock her unconscious, probably thanks to the nanomachines, and she fell off the line halfway up to the mark on the first ascensions. They ran through some more martial arts training before moving onto the batarangs: the part Eleanor was the most excited about. Alfred made them wait until after they ate something for lunch, which only served to make her more excited.

Evidently, the nanomachines were also giving her more energy.

Not such a good combination with sharp, pointy bat-shaped metal things.

After many-a-cut finger, wrist and arm and once her face and neck, Eleanor finally got the hang of things.

The fifth batarang slammed into the centre of the target, right beside the others. Then the sixth and seventh. And then she jumped for joy. Smiling the same wide smile she had been since she'd woken up early that morning, Eleanor all but skipped forward to pull the throwing bats free and then _actually _skipped back to the edge of the computer desk which had been designated the throwing line. She threw the bats again in quick succession, hurried forward the collect them and then moved _farther _back. As she was walking back the third time, she tossed one of the bats over her shoulder and giggled as there was a satisfying _thunk_. The batarang had hit the target, five inches to the left of the bull's eye. She threw the other six, all of them hitting their mark.

"Convinced?" she asked, whirling on her heel to face Bruce, who was seated at the computer, watching.

"Yes. I'm convinced you have all your mental facilities about you. But using the tools I do is just part of the game, Eleanor."

"I know that. Why are you dampening my excitement?"

"I am not dampening anything. You're plenty excited regardless of anything I say. And we still don't know if your body has actually accepted the nanomachines."

"So I still can't come out with you?"

"No."

She sighed and dropped to sit cross-legged on the cold cave floor, unbothered by the temperature change. Eleanor flipped her hair dramatically over her shoulder and stared at him. While she felt fine at that moment in time, it was impossible to tell if it would last, and she knew that, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Lucius had been to examine her that afternoon, and hadn't seen any of the signs they had previously: her temperature was normal and she hadn't yelled all day. Apparently the nanomachines were at ease for the time being. Bruce had had a doctor come and look Eleanor over as well and they had found her to be in better health than she had been before the injection. Once the doctor had left, Eleanor had even done a pain test where they had submerged one of her hands in ice water. She hadn't felt a thing and, as soon as they'd pulled her hand out of the liquid, the blue and purple had had started to disappear and, by the time her hand had returned to normal, there was no damage left behind. However, the blue hadn't left her fingernails and the colour had continued to darken all afternoon.

"Why don't you try and transform?" Bruce suggested.

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. This was the one thing she hadn't been looking forward to. Out of all the possible things to dread after injecting yourself with potentially dangerous microscopic robots, it was doing the one thing they were meant to do that scared her the most. Eleanor never claimed she was a logical being. After a moment of deliberation, Eleanor pushed herself to her bare feet, noticed her toenails had started to turn blue too, and faced Bruce.

"OK. I guess I'll give it a shot…"

Trying not to think about what had happened to Ashlynn when she had transformed one too many times, Eleanor conjured up a vivid image of the first woman who came to mind: her mother. Naomi Black came into fruition, red hair and all, in her adopted daughter's mind and then, seamlessly, painlessly, came to fruition standing barefoot on the floor of the Batcave, wearing Eleanor's clothes. Feeling marginally more confident in her abilities, Eleanor smiled shifted into Shauna looking as she had on her last visit to Wayne Manor—suitably harried with hair sticking out at every angle and mascara smudged—and then, for lack of women she was close to, Eleanor turned herself into the semblance of the doctor who had preformed her check up earlier. Smiling again, Eleanor turned back into herself.

Bruce didn't say anything immediately. It seemed he was waiting for something…

And there it was.

Pain lanced up Eleanor's spine and she gasped before she tried to conceal it. Under the watchful eyes of the man quickly becoming an incredibly detective however, she was unsuccessful. Bruce stepped forward and caught her as she doubled over with another wave of pain. He held here there for a minute as she caught her breath.

"No, I'll be fine," she breathed as he started to lead her towards the chair. The pain did disappear after a moment. "See? I'm fine."

"Eleanor."

"I am fine. I'm sure it's going to take a while for my body to adjust completely to all these—" she gestured widely, trying to encompass everything that had happened recently. "—_things_ that are happening. Don't worry. I'll let you know if something _really_ hurts, OK?" When he had nodded his concurrence, Eleanor changed the mood with a goofy grin. "Now," she said, slapping her hands and rubbing them together. "We need to talk about getting me a name and a fancy costume."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"But seriously, I'm sure I won't need all the armour you do, seeing as I'm so resistant to pain and all…" Eleanor jibed, elbowing Bruce playfully in the ribs. "I guess _I'll _talk to Lucius about it..." Her voice drifted into nothing as she caught the look on Bruce's face. "My my, don't you look pensive. What's on your mind Bats?" she asked, dropping into the chair and tenting her fingers in front of her face. As the thoughtful man sat down across from her, all the silliness born of giddiness at her current state vanished, leaving only the Eleanor that knew how to be serious when the situation called for it. And as the look had taken on a dark edge, Eleanor knew this was the time to be serious. "What is it? You're not going to tell me this was a mistake, are you?"

"No, but you seem to be taking this too lightly."

"Why? Because I just happen to be happy that _your idea worked_? That I _can help you now?_"

Bruce levelled his gaze at Eleanor in a way that told her to shut up pronto. "Eleanor… Even with the nanomachines, this is going to be incredibly dangerous. You have to be paying attention all of the time and you can not let your guard down."

"I _know_."

"Are you going to be able to do that?"

_"Yes." _Eleanor blinked at the tone of her own voice. She hadn't meant to sound angry. Bruce caught the surprise in her face, but before he could say anything, Eleanor forced a smile and got to her feet. "Let's go get something to eat. I'm _starved_."

* * *

Somewhere on the edge of Gotham City, in a dingy old factory, the Joker and his henchwomen sat around a dingy old table watching a dingy old television and drinking something green from dingy (and in some cases, broken) glasses. Harley, dressed in her red, black and white outfit complete with floppy hat, was standing in front of a smoking hot plate, trying to cook something for supper and, judging by the copious amounts of black smoke and the foul odour issuing from the pot, was failing miserably. Never one easily disheartened, the lithe woman vigorously added whatever she could find to the soup pot. The Clown Prince of Crime was paying no attention to the culinary disaster taking place to her right, and instead had his eyes glued to the television as he flicked through seven channels, looking for something interesting. Or vaguely so, anyway. And, last but not least, Daria sat at the other side of the table, playing solitaire with a well-worn deck of cards and ignoring all that was going on around her.

After some more ill-fated attempts to create a palatable meal, Harley dropped a chipped plate with a pile of black stuff on it on the table and dropped into a chair beside the Joker. "Ya know, Mista J, I don't know why we can't go back to one of the old hideouts."

"Because the boys in blue are watching them all, Harley. And so is _The Batman_," Joker growled, slamming the remote down on the battered tabletop and sending the batteries skittering onto the floor. For a moment, his face turned dark, making him look more evil than deranged, but it was just a moment and then he was back to his regular crazy clown expression, the eerily wide and yellow smile plastered across his face. "But, with this Catwoman running around drawing all of Batsy's attention…" The smile shifted into something more sinister again. "This is the opportune time to formulate and execute a plan."

"A plan for what Mista J?"

"A plan to find out who resides behind that dark cowl, my dear Harley."

"Why do you want to know who he is?" Daria asked, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived at the factory. She wasn't a terribly vocal person and she never had been. She preferred to let her actions do the talking. She took the Joker's piercing glare without a flinch. "Wouldn't that ruin the _joke_?"

Harley took a step forward, as if to attack the younger girl, but her beloved Puddin' stuck his arm across her path, stopping her progress. One of his green eyebrows rose in a curious expression, but he said, "Why, to take the joke to the next level, of course."

And he left it at that.

The Joker fished the batteries off the floor and resumed flicking through channels. Eventually, he found a news piece about Catwoman and paused to watch and wonder out loud about her identity. Harley started to pick through the mass of black stuff, possibly looking for something edible, but more likely just trying to pass the time until the Joker revealed whatever was cooking in his twisted brain. Daria returned to her card game, pulling the next card off the deck beside her. She gazed at it with her unnatural red eyes for a moment and then placed it on the matching king, a smile creeping across her red, red lips; she had taken to wearing the bright colour to show her loyalty to the Joker. She had also taken to wearing purple and green and she'd stolen a collapsible top hat and a pair of long, purple gloves that shocked any hand the wearer shook. They were like a pair of super-potent hand buzzers. And the Joker loved them. In fact, he'd done something to them that theoretically would transfer the energy to the cards or anything else Daria decided to throw. Harley had her purse full of strange delights and Daria had her magical gloves.

"What is with the smile, D?" Harley asked, staring intently at a lump of black sludge on the end of her finger.

"Call me the Queen of Spades."

* * *

**Author's Note  
**Lurking in the Darkness – Nobuo Uematsu, Final Fantasy VII Soundtrack

I love the Final Fantasy soundtracks, even when they're in midi. (grins) I'm also only going to indicate soundtrack albums, not regular albums, since songs seemed to always be on more than one album, so you can figure it out for yourselves.

I made an iTunes playlist out of all the songs I've used and am going to use for this story, and it turned out to be an awesome sounding playlist, which I thought was kind of funny. And man, is there a WIDE variety of music on that playlist… There's pop, rock, classic rock, jazz, video game soundtrack, movie soundtrack… I think there might even be a techno song or two. It's crazy! (cue to Shauna…) She no nuts! She crazy!

That's a quote from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, if you're unfortunate enough to have never seen those movies. (sticks out tongue)

I hope I wrote Catwoman OK! I've never written her before… She's supposed to be more "evil" at this point, just for the record. Oh, and the Joker I'm writing is supposed to be a combination of Heath Ledger's Joker and the Joker from The Animated Series. They're my two favourite versions of the Clown Prince of Crime, so I thought I might try and come up with something of my own invention. Just for fun.

And yes, yes, yes I know that Queeny's power is like Gambit's. Don't tell me I'm copying it because: 1. I'm not really. Gambit's powers are natural and Daria's are not. and 2. I know!

Anyways, sorry this chapter took some time. I've just been uber busy. And Star Trek minded.

Thank you all so much for being so patient… Even though it's short.

AND NOW ONTO STAR TREK! (scampers off)

**Next Chapter: Trust In Me. **


	5. Chapter Five: Trust In Me

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
Chapter Five: Trust In Me**

* * *

Her presence not yet permitted on patrol, Eleanor remained in the Batcave that night as Bruce donned the cowl and cape and rushed off into the night to stop the bad guys from committing various nefarious deeds. She watched the Tumbler drive away until she could no longer see the taillights or hear the growling of the engine. When the cave was quiet save the chirping and rustling of the bats overhead, she moseyed over to the elevator and rose into the mansion proper, intent on getting herself something to snack on while she watched the green dot that was the Dark Knight run all over Gotham for hours on end. As usual, Wayne Manor was eerily quiet and even though Eleanor was used to it, she made a conscious effort to make no noise as she traversed the halls. She stood for a moment in the kitchen, trying to figure out what she was tasting and thus, what she would make, before she grabbed a large jar of peanut butter and a sleeve of soda crackers from the shelf and a knife from the drawer. Once back in the electronic and slightly blue lighting of the cave, she folded herself into the chair in front of the computer terminal and brought the GPS program onto the main screen, minimizing it until it took up the bottom left hand corner of the insanely large screen Bruce had just installed. The "important" part done, Eleanor opened the internet browser and began the daunting task that she had set out for herself.

Shopping.

Shopping for her costume to be precise. Since the nanomachines gave her a higher resistance to pain and the ability to heal herself quiet rapidly, Eleanor wouldn't need to wear the same amount of armour Bruce did. This very welcome fact meant that she could shop off-the-rack and wear pretty much whatever she wanted. Of course, she wasn't _immune_ to pain, scaring or death, so Eleanor's not-so-grand solution meant Lucius and Bruce would be helping her reinforce her outfit and turn it into something worthy of a vigilante. But even all the excitement of picking out the elements of her costume couldn't get her excited about shopping. Eleanor hated shopping. For anything.

"Crackers and peanut butter Ms. Black?"

She spun the chair around to look at the only other residents of Wayne Manor. Alfred and Blaze were standing in the open doors of the elevator, the former with a small frown on his face and the latter with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Eleanor tried to say something, but it got lost in the mouthful of sticky spread. Once her mouth was clear, she tried again. "I was hungry, Alfred, and this was all I could find that didn't require too much effort to make."

Alfred's left eyebrow rose. "It would seem those nanomachines have given your metabolism a boost. You ate just before Master Bruce left for the night." The butler crossed the smoothed floor the cave and stood at the end of the desk beside her chair while Blaze took it upon himself to curl up underneath the desk and promptly close his eyes; he'd been sleeping an awful lot lately. The dog had quickly learned underneath something was the only way to stay out of the way and avoid getting himself stepped on or bumped into. "Would you like anything more to snack on?" Alfred asked as he eyed the crumbs Eleanor's snack was leaving behind.

Ignoring the butler's appraising glances, Eleanor turned the chair back to the computer screen and keyed up another website, one that dealt exclusively in shoes. "No thanks Alfred. I think I've got enough crackers to last me through this shopping thing."

"What exactly are you shopping for, Ms. Black, when you're supposed to be keeping an eye on Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he swept the crumbs from the desk.

Eleanor grabbed the edge of the desk to keep her chair from rolling away across the floor as the butler elbowed his way to the mess. "My costume, Alfred." The butler raised another eyebrow, but kept his mouth closed as if he somehow knew Eleanor was going to continue speaking regardless of anything he did or said. "If I'm going to be running around Gotham City by moonlight at Batman's side and fighting crime, I've got to have a different identity. I've got to have an outfit. A costume. I've got to make an impact. Just like Batman." She was well aware of Alfred's subtle eye rolling behind her back. Eleanor smiled to herself. "Well how would it look, me standing beside Batman on a rooftop or something equally dramatic, without a costume that made some sort of impact? I would look absolutely ridiculous! I can't be a costumed vigilante without a costume Alfred."

"Of course Ms. Black. How silly of me to assume otherwise."

Eleanor smiled to herself as she spread peanut butter on another cracker. "Well it's not like you've spent years of your life taking care of the most well-known vigilante in the world or anything, Alfred, so I wouldn't expect you to pick up on these subtle nuances or anything," she said sarcastically as she popped the cracker in her mouth. "What do you think of these boots?"

The butler leaned over Eleanor's shoulder and peered at the high black boots with purple heels. "I think they will be a nightmare to polish."

"Oh well you're no help."

Eleanor smiled warmly at the butler before he vanished back into the mansion upstairs and then she turned back to the computer screen to sift through some more articles of clothing and pairs of shoes and boots. In addition to the massive screen, Bruce was in the process of building some sort of super computer out of the systems he already had, which had so far managed to make the computer incredibly fast, producing web pages and search results in a matter of seconds. Or less. To support this new ultra-high-tech computer, he was also working at turning the cave into something more… worthy of the Batman and his reputation. Something more resembling a "headquarters" of sorts. The cave floor had been smoothed out the best it could and Bruce was planning to pour concrete or something to make it completely flat, metal struts had been put in on either side of the computer to further protect it in case of a cave-in, and, the last time Eleanor had asked about it, it had seemed Bruce was planning to expand the cave into one of the lower depressions found to the south of what the cave was now. Eleanor did what she could to help, but Bruce seemed to have an image of what he wanted and hardly trusted Alfred or Lucius to help achieve that, let alone her. Maybe one day.

She browsed through website after website, looking for all the elements of her costume that she could find outside of the basement at Wayne Enterprises. When she found items she was pleased with, she placed orders for them through several of Wayne Enterprises' satellite companies to avoid someone being able to track the purchases back to Bruce or his company. Satisfied, or mostly so, she moved to the training area to get some more practice in; her theory was if she practiced more, the sooner Bruce would let join him on patrol, but who could really know what he was thinking anyway? Martial arts drills run, she moved to the workbench to pick up the batarangs she'd practiced with earlier that day and in the days before.

Alfred returned to the cave as she tossed another batarang into the target. "Ms. Black, you're bleeding."

Previously unaware of the wound, she turned her hand over and looked at the deep gash running along the underside of her arm. "Huh. So I am. Oh, don't worry about stitching it up, Alfred," she said as the butler moved to get his first aid tools. "It'll heal in a few moments." Looking very unsure of the young woman's assurances, Alfred remained where he was standing to watch as the wound slowly began to shrink and close up. After several moments, all that remained was a pink scar and a wide grin on Eleanor's face. "And that'll fade soon too."

"You seem to have taken to your new… abilities well Ms. Black."

She shrugged with one shoulder and tossed the last projectile into the target, missing the centre by six inches or so. "I don't see why I shouldn't have. I want this. I'll make it work." Even though her voice was confident, Eleanor's thoughts drifted back to the outburst of anger. Once she realized where her mind was going, she forced it somewhere else. "You can turn in Alfred. I'll be here when Bruce gets back. I'll call you if he needs medical attention or anything, don't worry," she added.

The butler nodded once. "Good night then."

"Night Alfred." When she was alone again, Eleanor walked over to the computer and sat down on the floor where she could more easily reach Blaze. At her touch, the dog stirred awake and licked her hand. He didn't jump to his feet as he would have even last year. Eleanor sighed and scratched the dog's ears while she did some quick calculation and determined that Blaze would be turning ten that winter. "Ten years old boy. You're getting up there." Eleanor stretched out on the cave floor beside her dog and smiled as he licked her face, his tail sweeping back and forth across the cool platform. The Siberian husky cocked his head to the side slightly, as if imitating her awkward positioning and barked quietly in a strange way Eleanor had never heard any other dog accomplish. "OK, so I'm tired," she admitted, out of earshot of anyone else. Eleanor closed her eyes and was surprised to find out exactly how tired she was. She fell asleep on the cave floor.

And was awoken by the echoing roar of the Tumbler.

She sat bolt upright, promptly banging her head on the underside of the desk and waking Blaze. "Fuck!" she swore loudly as she rubbed the bump.

"Oh really?"

Eleanor looked up and smiled sheepishly at Bruce, still dressed in Batman's armour. She took the proffered hand and hoisted herself to her feet. "What time is it?" she asked as Gotham's favoured son pushed the cowl back from his face.

"Three in the morning."

"I miss anything exciting?"

He shook his head and dropped into the vacant computer chair. "There was no noise from the Joker, either of his sidekicks or Catwoman." Bruce sighed and leaned farther back into the chair, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he looked at Eleanor, who was leaning on the desk in front of him. "I can't stand knowing they're out there and not knowing where."

"You'll get them eventually Bruce."

He sighed again and turned the chair towards the computer, ignoring her support. Eleanor huffed and sat on the only bare spot on the desk. She stared at the side of his head until he turned around again and looked at her. She smiled tentatively, but he didn't smile back. Eleanor sat quietly, alternately looking at Blaze and at Bruce, while the Caped Crusader ran through file after file and did who knows what else on the computer. He didn't say anything for an hour or so, but when he was finished, he got up and crossed the cave floor to the chamber where he kept the Batsuit and all its spares. Eleanor continued to sit on the desk, watching the door, a frown on her face. Bruce remained silent as he emerged dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and made a beeline for the elevator. Eleanor and Blaze followed. Since Bruce didn't protest her company, she knew he was pissed but the anger wasn't for her and in a continued effort to make him feel better, she leaned her head on his shoulder. At the contact, he sighed, but it wasn't a frustrated sigh, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. It was Eleanor's turn to sigh, and she leaned into him more.

Once the elevator reached the top floor of the manor, the moment ended and Eleanor stepped off the elevator first. She changed into her baggy pyjama pants and a tank top before heading to Bruce's room and flopped down on his bed. She wasn't tired in the slightest, and when Bruce stretched out beside her, she just curled up against his side and put her chin on his chest.

"I'm putting together a costume," she said quietly.

He looked down at her and brushed some hair from her face. "Are you?"

Eleanor tilted her head to the side and pressed her cheek to his chest in order to avoid jabbing him in the chest anymore as she spoke. "Yes. I am. Since I have some sort of superhuman ability to endure pain—"

"Don't overestimate it."

"I'm not, don't worry. But, as I was saying, I ordered some stuff and was wondering if Lucius and you would be able to reinforce it." Eleanor waited for a reply, but Bruce looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Eh, nevermind right now. Go to sleep." Eleanor shimmied up the bed and kissed him softly on the lips before she slid off the bed and headed for the door.

"What about you?"

"I'm not tired," she said simply. "Night." She lifted one hand and waved over her shoulder.

The mansion was utterly quiet and still, except for the subtle ticking issuing from several different clocks. Eleanor proceeded through the silent halls, making no noise herself. At one point in her life, Eleanor would have found the quiet unsettling, but now she didn't. Maybe it was the mediation Bruce had been teaching her, maybe it—like every other new thing in her life—had something to do with the nanomachines. Her thoughts turned to the nanomachines as she reached the top of the stairs and a pain flared along her spine. She bit off a scream and gripped the railing, stopping herself from tumbling down the stairs. She gasped, but relaxed. The pain had passed.

"Shit," she breathed. "Shit, shit, shit…" Eleanor exhaled a long, slow breath and then proceeded down the stairs. Somewhere about half way down the wide staircase, she made the executive decision _not _to tell Bruce. It was just a momentary pain. Her body was still adjusting to the nanomachines. There was no need to give Bruce more reason to keep her cooped up in the cave, not when she wanted out so badly.

There was a brush of fur against her leg.

"Hey Blaze." Eleanor knelt down and kissed her dog's nose. The dog whined softly and licked her cheek, as if he'd sensed her pain. "I know, boy. Don't worry, OK? Come on."

Eleanor headed across the hall into the library/living room and started browsing along the shelf. She selected an old book full of fairy tales, dropped it on the couch and headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. While she was waiting for the water to boil, she half expected Alfred to appear out of nowhere, dressed in his suit and offer to do it for her, as he was known for doing. She was uninterrupted however, and returned the library with a large mug of steaming, sweet tea. Blaze was curled up against the leg of the couch, so Eleanor curled up on the couch above her dog, propped the book open on her knees and read through the not-so-child-friendly original versions of fairy tales.

"Ms. Black?"

Eleanor sat bolt upright again, but this time she didn't hit her head on anything. The book slid off her lap and clattered onto the floor and her mug shook on the table beside her. She looked at Alfred.

"It seems you fell asleep on the couch."

"So it would seem." Eleanor pushed herself into a more upright sitting position and yawned. As soon as her mouth closed, all traces of tiredness vanished. Chalking the erratic sleep patterns up to the nanomachines as well as the pain from the night before, she rose to her feet and dug her toes into the carpet. Blaze must have gone outside. "What time is it now Alfred?" she asked as she looked out the window on the expansive vista visible from Wayne Manor and sure enough, Blaze ran by.

"Six in the morning."

"Six. Hm…"

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Not right now Alfred. I think I'll wait for Bruce to wake up. I'm going to go outside and hang out with Blaze for a while."

"Very well. It's chilly outside this morning."

"Thanks Alfred," she said as the butler vanished back into the kitchen.

Eleanor picked up the book and placed it haphazardly in the couch before she walked a few feet away, towards the door. On second thought, she turned on her heel, walked back, picked the book up and returned to the shelf, then grabbed her mug and dropped it off in the kitchen before heading outside to the back porch where she sat on the steps and dug her toes into the grass. Blaze appeared almost immediately and sat in front of Eleanor, a stick clenched in his mouth. Eleanor took the stick and threw it. Blaze ran, got it and brought it back. Eleanor threw it again. The sun crept over the top of the manor and spilled across the emerald grass of the backyard and Eleanor was still throwing the stick.

A hand appeared on her shoulder, startling her. Eleanor jumped, her hand flying out in response and smacking into the arm of whoever had grabbed her.

"Good morning," Bruce said as he withdrew his hand.

She whirled around and winced. Bruce was holding his arm. She must have hit him harder than she'd realized. "Sorry…"

"No, it's fine. Although, I think you've gotten stronger."

The corner of Eleanor's mouth twitched in a grin. "The nanomachines seem to be having a much more positive effect on me than they did with Ashlynn."

"Well, when she injected herself with them, they were still largely in the prototype phase. You haven't had any other pain or lapses in temper have you?"

A ghost of the pain she'd felt the night before appeared in her back, but she ignored it. She had made the decision not to tell Bruce about the pain, and she was going to stick to that. At least for now. "Uh, no. No more pain. And I haven't yelled at anyone recently, so I think we might be in the clear."

* * *

"Where are we going Mista J?"

"To look up some of my… associates and find out why they didn't come to find me as soon as I got out." The Joker's evil grin spread wider.

Daria, or as she'd come to be called, Queen of Spades, also smiled, but it caused her to wince. Her face had been carved into the gory semblance of a smile and it was still bleeding a bit. She had garnered quite a few double-takes and prolonged stares, but it didn't bother her, and besides, she hadn't gotten as many looks as she thought she would. Apparently all the weirdoes of Gotham came out at night. She walked on the Joker's left, Harley walked on his right, shuffling a deck of cards as she walked. Energy cackled and arced around the cards and her gloves, casting flickering shadows across Queen's face and the side of the Joker's. It gave him a most sinister appearance. Not that he needed it of course.

"Well where are they?"

"I don't know Harl. That's why we are looking."

Queen rolled her eyes. They were looking all right. They had already been to three bars and busted in on two drug buys, talked to two of the Gotham crime bosses, looking for these henchmen who had apparently been good muscle. Good henchmen. Why else would the Clown Prince of Crime scour the dark corners of the city for them? She was getting tired of it though, and wanted to go back to headquarters. She wanted to practice with her cards. She wanted to throw more cards at the mannequin with the homemade Batman costume on it. She didn't want to be out looking for Bud and Lou or whoever else. If she was going to be on the streets of Gotham, she wanted to be hunting Batman. She wanted to be helping the Joker reach the punchline of his latest joke.

_I guess if helping him look for his favourite henchmen is helping… _Queen sighed and followed her fearless leader into yet another dark and dingy bar.

Apparently the Joker was happy with what he saw, because he laughed. Loudly.

The bar went dead quiet and everyone turned towards the door. In the shadows at the back of the room, under the old television attached to an arm on the wall, two men rose to their feet. One was tall and muscular and the other was squat at solid, but not fat. They both had slumped postures. It was a submissive position, one that didn't get past Queen. She wiped another drop of blood from the scars on her cheek as the men crept forward through the shadows to stand in front of the Joker. The taller one was closer to Queen and she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to see something in his face, but the man just stared at the ground, at the Joker's shoes. He was waiting for the yelling or some pain or something. Briefly Queen wondered if the man she was looking at was Bud or Lou. She opted for Lou. It fit him better. On the other side of the Joker, Harley Quinn was repeatedly prodding the short man in the cheek, her eyes wide and unrelenting. The man was afraid of Harley Quinn, as much as or more so than the Joker. As Queen took in the strange scene, she caught the men's eyes flicking towards her. They didn't know her, but they were already afraid of her. That was good. That was very good.

"Bud, Lou, why didn't you boys come and find me when I got out of Arkham?"

It was the short one who spoke. "We was working freelance, boss. We needed money while you was in the big house."

"Ah, boys, you thought I'd be mad, didn't you?' The Joker's grin spread nearly from ear to ear; Queen took an involuntary step towards the purple-suited man. "I'm not mad!" he chided when they nodded. "I'm a little disappointed that you didn't come and find me, but you can make it up to me by coming to work for me now. And," he turned his face to the rest of the patrons, "you can all come work for me too. More muscle makes things a lot easier."

Most of the men in the bar—Queen noted with a quick glance around that they were all men—nodded slowly, as if they were unsure what would happen if they disagreed with the tall, slim and green-haired man in front of them. He was well known for all the wrong reasons and while Queen was sure no one in the bar had a clean record, but she was betting that none of them had committed anything that was Joker-calibre crime. Except for Bud and Lou of course. They were the Joker's favourite henchmen. They must have done some _reeeaaallly_ nasty stuff to earn that high of a rank. Or they were crazier than they looked, because Queen hadn't done much to prove herself to the Joker, but she was already on his left hand and she was sure it was only because she was a little more than wacko.

One man in the bar thought he'd be brave however and rose from his table, his thighs the size of hams hitting the edge on the way up, spilling copious amounts of beer over the already disgusting table. "And what if we don't _want _to work for you?" he hissed, baring very yellow teeth.

Without thinking, Queen flipped a card into her fingers and chucked it across the room, putting all her force behind it. The card, appropriately the queen of spades, thudded into the centre of his forehead, just above his thick eyebrows. He had just enough time—barely a second—to look up and go cross-eyed before there was a loud explosion and the man was without a face and most of his head. Blood and thicker things splattered across the table and faces of the others around his table, clumps dropping into cups of beer with splashes very audible in the silence that followed the display.

"Good girl Queeny!" the Joker exclaimed beside her. He clapped his hands together and grinned all the more evilly at the assembled people. "Are there anymore questions?"

No one said anything.

* * *

"This is _so much _fun."

Batman looked sideways at Eleanor, who was crouched on the roof beside him and rolled his eyes. "You knew it might be like this. It isn't always chasing the bad guys."

"I know, I know."

Eleanor was perched on the edge of the roof, peering down to the city thirty-some-odd storeys below. There was no fear on her face, just curiosity. She was wearing very black jeans and a black tank top with the leather jacket she'd bought a vintage store all those years ago and had worn while they'd chased the Doppelganger across Gotham. She'd picked up a pair of knee-high leather boots that were very flexible and had no heel, enabling her to run faster and quieter. Everything was black—except for some detailing on the jacket—even her hair and eyes, which she had darkened with the aid of the nanomachines, and she was curled into such a small ball that if Batman hadn't known she was there, in the shadows to his right, he might not have seen her. In her hand, she clutched a wool ski mask that covered her whole face when it was on, except for her eyes and mouth, and she had insisted on bringing it with her on her first night of patrol. She hadn't wanted to tempt fate; she felt the more she used the nanomachines, the more likely she was going to turn into a deformed mass. She also felt that if she did change her face and didn't wear anything, she would be hounded with people trying to figure out who she was. She didn't want people to think she had nothing to hide. Batman had something to hide, the villains had something to hide. If she was going to be running around with this group of people, she wanted to fit in. As weird as that made her.

"I just wish _something _would happen. This is my first night as your sidekick or whatever we're calling me. And yes, I realize how completely soulless it makes me sound that I wish a crime would happen. But this is Gotham City. Why is nothing happening?" Her voice was full of emotion, and if they had been at the manor, Bruce would have expected flailing hand gestures to accompany her words, but out there, she remained perfectly still and kept observing the city around her.

"Something will happen."

"I hope so. It's gotta be around midnight or later."

"It's only eleven thirty." Bruce stopped himself from saying her name. They had agreed on the obvious choice of not saying her name while they were out. But they didn't have anything to call her. He was sure the media would come up with something sooner or later.

"Really?" She huffed and leaned a little farther over the edge. Batman reached out and pulled her back hard enough to pull her from the low wall. She stumbled, but caught herself, ending up in a low crouch, nearly pressed against the stone of the apartment roof. "What was that for?! I wasn't going to fall over. I could have caught myself," she whispered, her voice more like a hiss than anything else. Eleanor pulled herself back up onto the wall and resumed her former position while Batman listened to the police band. A stray breeze caught Batman's cape and blew it across Eleanor's shoulders. She sighed and some tension eased out of her posture. She suddenly looked more at ease on the wall than she had before. "It's peaceful up here," she breathed.

"It is."

An explosion sounded to the left of their position. Batman turned off the police band and turned, and by the time he was facing to the left, Eleanor was already perched on the other wall, gloved hand gripping the lip of the wall and leaning out over the street like some biker-gargoyle. The mask was on her face and her black eyes were narrowed. Batman reached her side and wrapped an arm around her waist, firing his grappling hook as they fell. They landed smoothly on a lower roof across the street, leapt onto the adjacent roof and then dropped into an alley at the backdoor of a bar. There was an acrid smell in the air that had nothing to do with the rotting garbage littering the space and a puddle of what Eleanor assumed was pee next to the door. The smell was coming from the slightly opened door of the bar. There was no light in the alley, but there was light coming from inside.

Batman opened the door slowly and they went inside. It was quiet.

Burned flesh stung their noses as they passed through a deserted kitchen and into the main room of the bar. There were two bodies in the room. There was a man lying on the floor missing his face and most of his head. The gore resulting from the explosion spread out across the floor and there was a nasty smell issuing from the body. But the body that caught Batman's attention was the bartender, a rag still clutched in one hand and spilled across the bar. There was a grotesque smile stretching across his aged face.

"The Joker," he whispered.

Eleanor took in the smiling corpse with a slight grimace. She pulled the mask off the better observe the scene; Bruce knew full-face masks made her slightly claustrophobic. When her face was clear, she turned to look at the man on the floor. "There's no way to tell if he was smiling before his face vanished."

Batman joined her and as he knelt, was aware of the sirens approaching. The police still weren't a hundred percent sure of him, other than Commissioner Gordon and a few other police officers. They still had a few minutes. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a bloody piece of something that looked like paper or cardboard.

Eleanor peered at it hard, but she couldn't see anything except a strange design that sort of resembled… "A playing card. It's a piece of a card."

"Queen of Spades," they said together.

Eleanor rose to her feet in a smooth motion and looked towards the door. Obviously she had picked up on the sirens too; Batman made a mental note to teach her how to better control her senses. "We should get out of here before the police come," she said as she pulled the mask back on and adjusted it around her face. "Or did you want to tell Gordon what you're thinking?" He just kept looking at her and she nodded, picking up on the unspoken words. "I'm out of here then."

She walked back out into the alley and he heard some metallic clanking that told him she was climbing the fire escape and would be on the roof, waiting for him to finish with the police. Gordon came in behind an armed line of officers and peered around the room. Batman remained in the shadows in the corner, nodding once when Gordon's eyes passed over him so the older man would know there was someone else lurking around the scene. With a whispered word to Montoya, who Batman knew was mostly on board with the vigilante thing, Gordon crossed the room and stood at the edge of the bar, pretending to study the smiling bartender. There were several long minutes of silence.

"It was definitely the Joker," Batman said quietly enough that only the Commissioner could hear. "And at least one of his henchwomen, but there's no reason to assume the other one wasn't here as well."

"Why have they been so quiet?"

"I don't know."

Batman watched the Commissioner turn back to his men and chose that moment to leave. He grappled onto the roof instead of climbing the fire escape, which would alert the police inside to where he was. On the roof, Eleanor was leaning on an air vent, staring out at the rooftops of the city. She sighed as Batman approached, letting him know that she knew he was there. He stood beside her, close enough that their arms were touching.

"Did you see anything?" he asked, knowing she would have tried to find any sign of the Joker's path.

"No. Back to surveying the city?"

"Back to sur—" More sirens cut through the air. Batman turned to Eleanor as he turned the police band back on with the controls wired through into his glove. "Robbery in progress at the museum. It's Catwoman."

Eleanor nodded once and pulled her mask back on. They ran across the roofs, back to the alley where the Tumbler was parked. The museum was too far away to run over rooftops and get there in time. Eleanor actually was ahead of Batman as they ran and leapt over walls and vents and the other rooftop paraphernalia. There was a smile on her face that reached her black eyes and it made Batman smile; it made Bruce Wayne smile. Once they'd reached the car, they both leapt into their seats and Batman was driving almost before the roof had finished sliding shut above them.

* * *

So far, so good.

Yes, she'd tripped the alarm, a careless mistake, but she was outside the museum now, and on her way to safety and no one had showed up. Not the police, not Batman… Selina looked down at the cat statue clutched in her hand. It was heavier than it looked, but it was every bit as gorgeous as she'd thought it was going to be. Smiling a very Cheshire smile, she slipped the statue into a pouch she'd brought and tied it to her belt. For a moment, she stood there, testing the weight at her hip, adjusting to it, her attention never leaving her surroundings. She was hidden from the view of the police, but on three sides she was open to the Gotham air. That was where she was vulnerable. That was where Batman would come from if he was going to show up.

He _was _going to show up.

She'd been incredibly lucky once again with the recon mission the night before, when she'd spent hours scoping out the museum and watching the guards and learning how to get inside and get to her statue.

"I don't think that belongs to you."

That wasn't Batman's voice. Catwoman turned to the side that should have been her safe side. On top of the structure housing the door into the building beneath her sat a woman. Her face was hidden beneath a ski mask, but her eyes were strangely black and there was a smirk on her face. She was crouched and her forearms were propped on her knees. There was a faint swishing behind Catwoman and she knew this woman was in league with Batman and the Caped Crusader had just shown up. Catwoman spun around and turned her attention to Batman. She'd always dealt better with men than woman.

"Who's the tag-along Batsie? You find a new girlfriend?" Selina said, pouting exaggeratedly.

"Give back the statue, Catwoman."

"Uhm… no."

She waved coyly at Batman before taking off at full speed. Catwoman ran in a wide arch around the vigilantes, wide enough she hoped to avoid that damn grappling line Batman was so fond of using. She heard a batarang whistle past her head, and she knew she was being pursued, not that she had had any doubt that was going to happen. Taking a deep breath in, she somersaulted to avoid two more batarangs that sailed over her head. When she came out of the roll, she was near the edge of the roof. Selina was going to have to jump.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Catwoman skidded to a halt and looked to her right, right into the black eyes of the strange girl. Batman appeared on her other side and made a grab for her. Selina dodged Batman, but the woman dove and grabbed for the pouch containing the statue. She felt the pouch strings pull and finally snap as she tried to keep out of Batman's hands. She couldn't dodge them both at the same time. She couldn't get away from both of them. The feline-themed thief lashed out with a kick, aimed low and in the general direction of the woman and grimaced when she felt her shin connect with something solid, most solid than flesh; she'd hit the woman in the head. The woman fell backwards and rolled away, still clutching the statue to her chest, protecting it. Catwoman couldn't retrieve it, there was no way she could get to the statue and get away from Batman.

"Surrender Catwoman."

She spun into his chest, putting her clawed hands against the armour on his chest. "Now why would I go and do that when we're having so much fun?" She hissed and scratched at the exposed part of his face. He backed off. "Bye bye Batman."

Without a second thought, she dropped over the side of the building, cracking her whip so it wrapped around the adjacent fire escape. She hit the ground and kept running. Right into the police. Evidently they'd followed her better than she thought. Catwoman turned on her heel and bolted down the alley, into the confusing maze of passages between the old stores and apartment building. The police tried to follow, but she moved to another rooftop and met up with the woman. She was clutching the pouch tightly in one hand. There was blood dripping down her skin visible through the eyehole of her mask and her mouth was set in a frown. She had to have run over several rooftops, leaping and vaulting over spaces, but she wasn't even breathing heavily. There was something off about her…

"Turn yourself in."

"No," Catwoman hissed. She lunged, but the woman sidestepped. Selina lunged again, trying to get the statue back in her hands, since the woman didn't seem like she was going to fight. The swish of fabric behind her almost made her groan out loud. The woman had been stalling. "I am getting tired of this game of cat and mouse, Batman." She spun around and stared into the white lenses of his cowl.

"I was going to say the same thing."

Catwoman jumped backwards to avoid Batman's arms, spun on her toes, grabbed the statue and ran for the edge of the roof. The woman followed, recovering quickly from the surprise of having the treasure taken from her. Selina stopped and, closing her eyes because she was out of options and she was frustrated, held the statue out over the alley, which had filled with policemen, who were looking for a way up and fighting with a landlady who didn't want to let them into the apartment building. The woman stopped, her black eyes going wide behind her ski mask and watched at Catwoman held the statue out over open air; she knew without explanation what her options were. Batman stopped behind the woman and watched. Catwoman hesitated only a moment longer and then dropped the statue. When it came down to her freedom or her treasures, she would take her freedom every time, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. But it worked. Catwoman lunged across the opening and vanished as the woman dropped into the air after that statue and Batman shot his grappling line to catch her before she went splat all over the concrete.

Freedom over treasures.

She'd get it back. It was her's after all.

* * *

**Author's Note… **So I made an executive decision to leave Christian Bale's version of Batman and Bruce Wayne in my fics that go with the movies (_Superhero's Confidante _and _Chances Are_). The Batman and Bruce Wayne that appear from now on in this story and whatever sequels I write will be the Batman and Bruce Wayne of the comics/cartoons. Don't ask me why, I don't know how to explain the choice. So just deal with it, OK? (grin) And this also means some of the more familiar batsurroundings will be making an appearance as well. Just not right away. But I'm excited about them. Maybe I've been watching too many cartoons…

If you don't know, soda crackers are the same as saltine crackers.

All of the remaining chapters will be about this length, maybe longer. (gasp) Lotsa looong chapters. For me anyway. Fun times.

I also realized "Miss Black" should have been "Ms. Black", but since I never actually knew the difference between the two until now, forgive me, will ya?

Please enjoy the chapter.

**Next Chapter: Assassin's Tango; Weapon of Choice.  
**


	6. Chapter Six: Assassin's Tango

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Six: Assassin's Tango; Weapon of Choice.

* * *

The morning just hadn't officially begun until Adam had his coffee and the newspaper in hand. He didn't know why he thought that, but he did and he started every day in the same fashion. Oh well. Caffeine in hand, and a smile on his face, he settled into the well-worn chair behind his desk and unfolded the paper before him. Staring back at him from the front page was a blurry photo of what looked like Batman, Catwoman and… someone he'd never seen in the papers before, standing between the two, and as someone who followed the vigilante scene with something resembling fervour that was saying something. He squinted at the colour photograph, trying to make out any details of the mysterious figure. The new figure's position between Batman and Catwoman accomplished what the photographer had intended it to; it made Adam question whose side she was on, if anyone's. It was entirely possible she was working by herself, but something made Adam doubt that. He peered harder at the woman in the picture. Something about her seemed familiar, but it wasn't something he could place.

"'Mysterious vigilante seen with Batman and Catwoman'," Shauna quoted from behind him, her sudden appearance making him jump a little. There was a note of bitterness in her voice.

"Mhm, and according to this, they don't know who she was working with." Contrary to Shauna's voice, Adam sounded excited, and he was. One of his favourite things about Gotham City was the never-ending supply of interesting people. "I wonder if she's one of the good guys… I wonder if she's working with Batman…" He took a sip of his coffee and then spun the chair to look at Shauna. "And why do you sound so bitter about the new mask anyway?"

Shauna sat down at her own desk and stared ahead at her computer screen, logging into the system and speaking without looking at Adam. "I'm not. I'm just tired."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not, Adam."

"Whatever." Adam returned his attention back to the paper. He scanned the words, looking for what he knew would be there: the name for this new vigilante. "Darkshade?" The young engineer took another sip of coffee and mulled over the name for a moment. "Why on Earth would they name her that?" After some more scanning of the article, he determined that it was because the police and other witnesses described her moving like a shadow around the rooftops. "I guess 'The Shadow' just wasn't original enough for whoever wrote this article," he muttered. "Shauna, have you read the paper this morning?" It was a simple enough question, but all Adam got in reply was a dissatisfied grunt. "What _is _your problem?"

Shauna finally turned to look at her friend and co-worker, but there was none of her usual exuberance in her face. Just a glare. "I do not have a problem. Now, would you let me do my work, please?"

Adam sighed. He remained silent for several minutes while he checked his e-mail. There was a message from Eleanor, who had been off sick for a while. Adam had lost count of the days, but he was worried about her, and he knew Shauna was too. He replied to the e-mail and then rolled over to Shauna's desk on his wheeled chair. "How about we go and see Eleanor today? She sent me an e-mail and said she's been feeling better."

Shauna levelled a steady glare at Adam, but didn't offer a verbal reply.

Adam resisted the urge to throw something at his co-worker and settled for glaring at the side of her head. When Shauna didn't react to that, he sighed. "There's no point in lying Shauna, I know there's something wrong. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but don't be a bitch about it to me when I haven't done anything to deserve it. If I haven't done anything, that is."

"You haven't done anything Adam." Shauna spun her chair around so she could look at him. There was suddenly heaviness to her expression that hadn't been there before. "As for what's bothering me… It's my problem to deal with, all right? I don't mean to sound mean, but there's nothing really you could do to make it better anyway." If Adam could read minds, he would have got something along the lines of _Oh Eleanor, what have you done? _at that moment from Shauna. He wouldn't have known what she meant by that, but he couldn't read minds, so all he got was a pleading expression from his best friend. "Please Adam?"

He nodded. "Of course I'll drop it, but you didn't answer my question."

"Which was?"

"How about we go and see Eleanor today?"

Shauna frowned, deep lines appearing between her eyebrows. "Later, all right? I've got some things I have to finish for Mr. Fox."

Adam nodded and turned back to his computer, unable to shake the feeling that he was missing something big.

Several hours later, around four in the afternoon, Shauna was finally finished her work and Adam was at a place in his that they could pack up and leave for the day. The female engineer still seemed a little less than enthused about going to visit her friend, and Adam still didn't have any idea what that was about, but like he'd promised, he didn't bring the topic back up and instead gathered his things and led the way to the elevator. Once the duo had reached the parking garage, Adam pulled out his cell phone and hit the keys to speed dial Eleanor's apartment. As he had expected, there were three rings before the answering machine picked up. He shut his phone, returned it to his pocket, and climbed into the driver's seat of his car, before turning to Shauna, who had evidently deciding Adam was driving on this little excursion.

"She's not at home—"

"So she'll be at Wayne Manor. Gotcha."

Adam frowned but still didn't say anything. As he drove out of the parking garage and across Gotham, navigating the rush hour traffic, Shauna kept her keys on the road and didn't say anything. He covered the uncomfortable silence by turning on the radio and turning it up loud so he could sing along and pretend like he wasn't bothered by Shauna's unfathomable mood. It took them almost an hour to get through the city and up to the more quiet area of Gotham decorated by mansions and expansive lawns which were a little less than emerald green as they had just begun to grow again after the winter. The driveway up to Wayne Manor was long and wound through the landscape. Adam parked at the side of the driveway and climbed out. It was only when he'd started to head up to the door that he realized Shauna wasn't right behind him. She was standing at the car, arms crossed over her chest and looking at the manor like it had offended her in some way.

"Come on Shauna," he called.

She shook her head as if bringing herself back to normal and then followed Adam up the stairs to the heavy wooden doors. Adam rapped his knuckles on the flattest surface he could find and they waited.

The doors were promptly opened by Bruce's butler Alfred. "Good evening, Mr. Ross and Ms. Messer," he said as he swept his gaze over the visitors. "I assume you're here to see Ms. Black?" When Adam nodded, Alfred stepped to one side and allowed the engineers access to the manor. "I last saw her in the library. This way."

Once Adam and Shauna had removed their shoes, they followed the elder man down the hallway to a large room filled with more books than either of them had ever seen before. There was a large fireplace to one side and various couches, chairs and tables arranged in a square in the middle of the room. It was in the largest chair they found Eleanor, curled up with a book on her knees and a bowl of popcorn by her feet. She didn't look up when the party entered.

"Ms. Black," Alfred said, announcing their presence. "You have visitors."

Her head snapped up and she smiled as she saw Adam and Shauna. "Hey guys. Thanks Alfred." The butler nodded once and vanished back into the depths of the manor and Adam and Shauna sat on a couch across from Eleanor as she closed her book and set it on the table next to her chair.

"How are you?" Adam asked her.

She shrugged with one shoulder. "I'm a lot better than I was, but I'm still not one-hundred percent." Eleanor ignored a scoff from Shauna. "I'm working for Lucius still, doing all my stuff over e-mail and whatever. It's working. What about you? It's been a while since I saw you."

"I'm good. Hey, did you see the paper this morning?"

Eleanor nodded, something of a knowing grin plastering itself all over her face. Adam had only ever seen that expression when the blue-eyed Gothamite was talking about Batman, but it made him smile nonetheless; it was a goofy expression. "About Darkshade? Yeah! What do you think of her?" she asked, ignoring another scoffing noise from Shauna. Her cobalt eyes flicked to the sulking engineer briefly, and Adam could have sworn he saw anger flash across her face.

"Uhm… I'm not sure," he answered, forcing his mind back to the conversation at hand. If there was something going on between Shauna and Eleanor, he was sure he'd hear about it eventually. There was no use prying. "But that's what they wanted us to think, right? I mean, you put a picture of her standing between Batman and Catwoman on the front page and there are going to be questions about her loyalty. Personally, I think she's working with Batman." Adam didn't wait for Eleanor to ask him why he thought as such, just continued speaking. "There was just something in the way she was standing that said she was trying to catch Catwoman."

Eleanor nodded, her face thoughtful. "I think you're right. Plus, why would Catwoman work with anyone?"

"Exactly."

"If this is all you guys are going to talk about, then I think I'll leave," Shauna interjected, rising from the couch. "It's nice to see you out of bed, Eleanor," she nearly hissed as she crossed the living room.

"Hey wait!" Adam got to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back towards the couch as gently as he could manage. "Now, I said I wouldn't bring this up, but what the hell is your problem today? You've been pissy all day and now you won't even talk to your best friend who's been sick for however long? Normally you've got a thing or two to say about the vigilantes as well, and I've never heard you be quiet for so long. Obviously you're mad at someone, but why are you taking it out on us?"

Shauna pulled her arm away from Adam and shot him an angry glare, some of her auburn hair flying loose of her low ponytail as she moved. She flicked the hair away from her face and stared at Eleanor for a long minute. "Where's Bruce?" she asked, her voice more accusatory than inquisitive. She didn't even acknowledge that Adam had just hit her with a barrage of questions, just moved on to another subject and one with information that would most likely allow her to stay angry.

"He's at a dinner party," Eleanor answered in a measured tone.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Adam wanted to jump in and ask what was with the interrogation, but Eleanor just kept talking, her eyes narrowed and her face suspicious. "I wasn't feeling up to it."

Apparently that was all Shauna could handle. "Oh come on! This is bullshit and you know it! I'm out of here," she snapped, moving out of the library before Adam could impede her retreat again. They heard the front door slam a moment later and then nothing.

Confused, Adam turned to look at his friend, one eyebrow raised. "What was she talking about?"

Eleanor shrugged, her face just as confused as Adam. "I… have no idea." She sighed and ran her fingers backwards through her hair. "I'll talk to her later and figure it out. Just tell her to stop taking it out on you, okay? She's never been this mad at you, so it's obviously something I did…" She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, something tired in the gesture.

"Are you sure you don't know what this is about?"

Her face filled with confusion again and she shook her head. "I swear I have no idea."

Adam sighed and settled back into the couch. "Well, I'd better head out and find Shauna before she tries to walk all the way back to the city or gets a cab that'll cost her half her next paycheque." He pushed himself off the couch and crossed the seating area to where Eleanor had risen to her feet and hugged her. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better. I'll come and visit again."

"All right. See you later Adam. Call me if you need any help with Shauna."

"I think I got it."

He left the library and hurried out to his car, starting it turning the car around as fast as he could. Adam found Shauna at the foot of the driveway, speaking animatedly on her cell phone. When the car stopped beside her, she huffed, hung up the phone without saying goodbye or thank you or anything and climbed into the passenger's seat. For a long time, they drove in silence, and it wasn't until they had reached the city again that Adam found the words to express his frustration.

"Shauna, what do you think yelling at Eleanor is going to accomplish? She doesn't even know—"

"Adam, she's not sick. She never was."

"What? What do you mean?"

Shauna huffed again and ran both her hands back through her hair and then down over face. She made a noise that was something like a frustrated scream. "I can't tell you that." Without another word of explanation, she reached forward and turned the volume dial up almost to maximum, indicating that she didn't want to talk anymore and no amount of reprimands or yelling from Adam was going to get her to say anything, leaving the bespectacled engineer to ponder her cryptic remarks.

* * *

It was closing in on ten o'clock when Bruce Wayne finally returned to his manor. As he expected, it was quiet when he stepped inside the side door to the kitchen, and there were no lingering smells of a meal; when he was gone, Bruce found that Eleanor declined all offers for a prepared meal and settled for making something herself, and usually not something that was particularly healthy. Alfred didn't like leaving her to her own devices, but, even before the nanomachines, her stubbornness was something to be reckoned with. He crossed the kitchen and cut directly to the room he knew Eleanor would be in: the library.

Sure enough, she was sitting in the same chair he'd left her in, at the end of the book she'd started that morning. There was a bowl of macaroni and cheese in her hands and, as she looked up and saw him, a smile appeared on her face. "Hey. How was the thing?" she asked, putting the book on the table and getting to her feet, food still in hands.

"It was fine." Bruce took a moment to look at Eleanor and smiled. "Do you do anything other than eat and read anymore?"

"Uhm… No." Her smile grew as she crossed the room, and then faltered as some memory crossed her mind. "Shauna and Adam stopped by today."

"And?"

"Well, Shauna's beyond pissed and Adam's clueless."

"You didn't tell them anything, did you?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a barely-contained grin. "Of course I didn't tell them anything. What do you think I am? Stupid? They're both very smart people and Shauna's probably got it all figured out now without any help. She did barge over here while I was bed-bound, remember? She designed the nanomachines. What did you _think _was going to happen?"

Bruce didn't answer right away. "Not this," he said finally.

"Well, whatever. We'll deal with that whenever it becomes a serious problem. Shauna's not going to tell anybody anyway. She'll be pissed at me probably for the rest of time, but she would never betray me." She stepped beyond Bruce, into the hall and started for the kitchen, scooping the last of her late-night snack into her mouth as she went. "So, did you see my parents?" she asked once she was back in the hall. She turned and headed for the study at the back of the ground floor without waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he answered as he followed her. "They were asking about you. I told them you were doing much better, but still not completely well, and that I'd call them when they could come and see you and that it should be soon."

Eleanor nodded without looking back at him. "That would be good. I miss them."

As Bruce crossed the threshold into the little-used study, Blaze popped out of nowhere and fell into step beside the billionaire; the dog always seemed to be there when they were heading down into the cave. The trio proceeded to the wall where a large grandfather clock sat, ticking quietly. He opened the front of the clock and flipped a concealed switch. There was a faint click. Bruce wiggled his fingers between the wall and the back of the clock and pulled, the clock swinging easily forward on the hidden hinges, exposing the newest entrance to the Batcave far beneath the mansion. Eleanor hit the stairs first, followed by her faithful dog, and Bruce went last, shutting the clock behind him. The passage was long and rather chilly, but Bruce was sure it would prove a good idea to have installed another entrance in the long run.

"Thanks for telling my parents what you did, by the way. That's exactly what I wanted them to think. I don't want to be around them yet…"

"You want to wait until you're sure you can control yourself before you're near them again," Bruce finished.

"Yeah. I don't really want to yell at them like a yelled at you, or, God forbid, hurt them."

"That's probably a smart choice."

As they reached the end of the staircase and emerged into the cave, Blaze bounded off, chasing the shadows created by the bats flapping around overhead, and Eleanor and Bruce headed straight for the main computer area, which had spread quite far into the natural stone of the cave. As he sat in the chair, Eleanor leapt lightly onto the desk, sitting in the only empty space available and putting her feet on the arm of the chair, watching Bruce as he typed. He was aware of her eyes on him, but didn't acknowledge her attention. It was just standard procedure.

"Hm… I doubt you'll find anything on the Joker or any of his henchwomen," she said as she figured out the criteria for his searches. "They're good."

"I know that, but it doesn't mean I shouldn't try."

"Oh right, forgot who I was talking to, 'World's Greatest Detective'. Anyway, why don't you tell me about when the Joker showed up in Gotham? I mean, I know from a civilian aspect, since that's all I was at the time, but what was it like for you?" When she didn't get an answer, she hopped off the desk and strode across the cave to the area where various memorabilia from various cases had been stored. She didn't press him for an answer; she was getting better at realizing when to stop. "Whose idea was it to keep all this stuff?" she asked, staring particularly hard at one of the Penguin's umbrellas. When in doubt, ask a different question.

"Alfred's."

"That makes sense."

She lapsed into silence when Bruce didn't offer anymore information, and walked out onto the untouched rock of the cave, watching her dog, who had given up chasing bats and had settled for watching them from his perch by a drop off. After a while of standing by Blaze, Eleanor moved across the cave to the storage area where the costumes were and disappeared inside. While Bruce continued researching the Joker and trying to find a lead on where he might be, she changed into her black jeans, shirt, boots and jacket and, by the time she settled into the chair beside Bruce, her hair and eyes were also black. The look disturbed Bruce a little, since it wasn't natural for people to have solid black eyes, but he had no plans to tell her that. According to her, it was simple for her to change just her hair and eyes, and darkening the colour took less effort than lightening it for some reason, and Bruce didn't want to give her any reason to push the nanomachines harder. The memories of what Ashlynn had turned into were still to vivid. He wouldn't let Eleanor become a monster. Not like that.

After he had gathered all the information he was going to gather and had an idea of where to start patrolling Gotham, Bruce changed into his armour and joined Eleanor, who was standing beside the Tumbler, with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. As he slipped the cowl over his face, he caught her looking at the section of the cave that was under construction, but by the time he had reached the other side of the car though, Eleanor was already climbing into her seat, ready to go. The change in her attitude when she went from Eleanor to what the papers had dubbed as Darkshade was almost instant and as unsettling as her eyes, but he didn't really have room to talk. He knew how fast he could do a one-eighty.

"Did you get any leads on the Joker? Or Catwoman?" she asked as the Tumbler roared towards the city.

"No."

"I'm sorry I let her get away."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. I let a criminal get away."

"The Joker is first priority right now. Catwoman hasn't killed anyone. Yet," he added as an afterthought. "Although something tells me she won't if she can help it. We will get her."

Darkshade sighed and stared out at the city as it flickered past, the lights creating weird shadows on her face. Batman didn't say anything more, just found an out-of-the-way place to park the Tumbler and ascended to the roof with his arm around the female vigilante. They took up a position similar to the night before, with Batman standing at the corner of the roof and Darkshade hunkered gargoyle-like on the edge, peering down at the street below. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the immediate vicinity, and nothing to suggest the Joker or any of his henchmen were in the area, and there was no sign of a burglar prowling the rooftops.

"What if I'm wrong about Shauna?" Darkshade suddenly asked. The mask wasn't on her face yet, so Batman could see the tension around her eyes. "What if she tells Adam? What if she tells someone else? What if…"

"What if she betrays you?"

She nodded. "I trust her, but what if this is too much for her?"

"You can't waste time on 'what ifs'. If you're going to do this, you have to be in it completely. If Shauna does tell someone, we'll deal with that when it happens, but you can't dwell on the possibility."

It was a moment before she said anything. "You're right. As usual," she mumbled.

A small smirk played over Batman's face, but a sharp scream cut the moment short. In one smooth motion, Darkshade pulled her mask on and leapt over the space between buildings, catching the edge of the fire escape and hoisting herself up to cross the roof. Batman met her at the top of the next alley. In the shadows behind the garbage cans, there was a knot of people, and the screams were issuing from the centre of the knot. Without a second thought, Batman and Darkshade dropped into the midst of it, the latter without the aid of a grappling line. She lunged forward, tackling the largest of the three assailants to the ground, leaving Batman to take care of the other two with expertly aimed punches that knocked them unconscious. After turning to make sure the woman they'd been terrorizing was okay, and securing the hands of the knocked out men behind their backs, Batman turned in the direction Darkshade had tumbled with the man.

She had the scruffy man pinned to the ground, his wrists clasped in one of her hands and her knee embedded in his back, between his shoulder blades. There was a nasty grin twisting her face into something inhuman. As Batman approached, Darkshade wrapped her free hand around the back of the man's neck and began to squeeze, the grin stretching her face into something even more monstrous. In the shadows, it looked like the skin around her eyes was darkening.

"Darkshade!" She didn't respond. He closed the distance and grabbed her arm and pulled her off the guy, who had ceased moving. She snarled and tried to pull away; Batman had to make an effort to hold on. "Darkshade!" he growled.

"Let me go!" she snapped, pulling harder against his hand.

"No!" He slammed her into the wall, her head cracking against the brick; in the light from the streetlamp, Batman could see the skin around her eyes actually was dark, and it was greenish, like Ashlynn's had been when she'd started to turn. Batman was aware of the woman behind him scurrying away, probably afraid for her life; the men lying on the alley floor all remained unconscious. "Darkshade!"

She closed her eyes and struggled more. He fought her. Darkshade pressed herself back against the wall and then went momentarily still, and when she opened her eyes again, they were the cobalt eyes of Eleanor and there was fear in them. Her mouth fell open and as the memory came back, she struggled harder, tears starting to fall from her eyes. She was mumbling something, but he couldn't make out what it was. Batman's grip loosened slightly and Eleanor chose that moment to let go of the hold she had on her strength and shoved. Batman stumbled backwards, almost hitting the opposite wall of the alley, and Eleanor ran. When he regained his footing, she was gone.

The Caped Crusader turned and secured the man Darkshade had almost killed and then headed back to where he'd parked the Tumbler. He grabbed the GPS device for the batarang he'd given Eleanor last year and turned it on, but, as he'd expected, the green dot wasn't moving. In fact, it was close, on the rooftop where they'd started the night. Repressing a frustrated sigh, he returned to the rooftop. The well-worn batarang was sitting on the edge. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment.

He had no idea how he would find her.

* * *

The warehouse had become a much busier place since recruiting all those willing men from the bar the night before. Currently, they were in the main room, moving about like little ants, organizing the boxes and setting up the Joker's things. The leader of the gang, the Clown Prince of Crime, was sitting in what used to be break room and was now a functioning office, reading the newspaper and playing with one of his favourite knives. There was a more-happy-than-normal grin on his face, with that unsettling touch of evil that was always present in his face. His eyes were glued on the front page, where there was a large image of the Batfreak standing on a roof with the burglar, Catwoman or whatever her name was, and someone he'd never seen before.

"Darkshade…" he said.

If this woman, this new vigilante or whatever she was supposed to be, was indeed working with the Bat, she would know who he was. If they were close, capturing her would bring the Bat to the Joker. He would be able to find out who the Batman was and stop him, all thanks to this woman who was just as deranged as her pointy-eared pal.

"What'cha lookin' at Mista J?"

He looked over the top of the newspaper at his two henchwoman who had just entered his office. Harley Quinn was standing in front of Queen of Spades, wearing a nurse uniform and holding a scalpel in one hand and a still-dripping needle in the other. There was her normal goofy grin on her face, although there were a few spots of blood above her right eye and in her blond pigtails. Behind her stood Queenie, dressed in her purple and green, but there were bandages over the lower half of her face, blood leaking through the white gauze. Her skin was a little paler than normal, but that was probably because of the blood loss.

The Joker chucked the newspaper at Harley, who caught it with the scalpel hand. "Who's this Darkshade?"

"The key to Batdork's identity."

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Assassin's Tango – John Powell, from the Mr. & Mrs. Smith soundtrack  
Weapon of Choice – Fat Boy Slim

So it's been so long since I updated, that this might not be very Batman-y anymore, but I tried. I'm going to keep trying too, but my brain is all about **Supernatural **right now, but I don't want to abandon my other fics. (ignores the questions about the **Harry Potter **fic and the **X-Men **fic) This got a little laboured in the middle, but I tried to push through it the best I could. Hope you still enjoy it. (stupid grin) It will get better.

**Next Chapter: Slow Me Down. **


	7. Chapter Seven: Slow Me Down

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Seven: Slow Me Down.

* * *

She should have been shivering. She should have been turning blue. She should have been freezing.

Eleanor, still in the guise of Darkshade minus the ski mask, had wedged herself between two angel statues on top of a church. It was raining. Her still-black hair was plastered to her face and neck and her clothes were clinging to her body like a second skin; she could feel small rivers of water running down her back, between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were wide, black irises surrounded by too much white, and unfocused. She wasn't seeing the building across the street. What she was seeing was the face of the man she had nearly strangled to death. What she was hearing was Batman yelling her name, trying to stop her from killing. What she was feeling was how hard it had been to let that man go.

It had been twenty-six hours since she'd run from Batman, from the alley. Twenty-six hours of running and of hiding. She didn't want to be found, and she knew if she stayed still for very long, Bruce would find her. She didn't want to see the look of disappointment, anger, betrayal or whatever else he might be feeling. She didn't want to hear him yell at her, accuse her, tell her she should have better control of herself. She didn't want to feel any more pain.

_**You don't have to feel pain. **_

Eleanor screamed and scurried out from her hiding place. A gust of wind hit her, knocking her sideways as she climbed higher on the church roof. _Go away, go away, go away… _"Go away," she muttered.

A sharp pain shot up her spine, and she bit of another scream. Falling would be a bad idea. She scurried over the peak of the church roof and slid down the slick shingles feet-first. As she hit the edge, she bent her knees and launched herself over the alley, landing hard on her knees on the roof of an apartment complex. The breath rushed from her lungs and she doubled over, momentarily paralyzed as points of light swam across her vision and she felt consciousness start to slip away. Pain lanced through her back again. Tears slid from her eyes, hot against her skin. Groaning loudly, Eleanor pushed herself to her feet and stumbled a few steps, the nanomachines doing their work and healing whatever needed to be healed as she moved. By the time she reached the opposite side of the roof, she was able to run, but the little robots in her system could do nothing for the pain shooting through her spine with every step, and they could do nothing to erase the images from her mind.

Ignoring the pain the best she could, Eleanor ran.

She hit a roof with asphalt instead of gravel. The sole of her boot couldn't get a grip and she fell backwards, landing on her tailbone before smacking her back and head on the ground. Her world went black for a moment. When she could see again, she was crying and blinking furiously, trying to keep the rain out of her eyes. Eleanor rolled onto her side and coughed up a mouthful of water.

"I would have thought the big time vigilante would be more graceful."

Eleanor's head shot up too fast, her hand automatically going for a batarang. The world swam for a second before righting itself and allowing Shauna to come into focus. The engineer was standing on a balcony across the alley. She was wearing a pair of old jeans with holes in the knees and a very large t-shirt that hung nearly to her knees. Her arms were crossed under her chest and there was a look of anger, pity and pain on her face. Because of the balcony above her, Shauna was dry. Eleanor tried to speak, but only coughed again. She pushed herself to a sitting position and managed to get herself to her feet. She felt stronger with every movement.

"Well get over here. I'm not going to catch a cold trying to help you when Lord knows I should just leave you out there to wallow or whatever it is you're doing."

The vigilante blinked, and then realized that Shauna did in fact know who she was. Slowly, Eleanor crossed the roof and leapt across the narrow space. In this area of Gotham—outside downtown, but not quite in the "slums"—the buildings were all too close together, making balconies rather redundant, unless you liked a nice view of the wall next door. The lack of space did make roof-hopping that much easier however. After making sure Eleanor wasn't going to collapse again, Shauna stepped back through the sliding door, leading the way into her one-bedroom apartment.

There was a mat inside the door. Not wanting to get water on the carpet, Eleanor sat on the hard plastic and watched Shauna as she disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with two steaming mugs. The smell of orange pekoe tea hit Eleanor's nose and she sighed, tears staring to fall again as some of the tension evaporated from her shoulders and back. Tea always made her feel better. Made her relax. With relaxation however, Eleanor's hold on her Darkshade appearance slipped; she could almost feel her eyes and hair brighten from black to their normal colours. Shauna waited while Eleanor pulled off her leather coat and gloves before handing her the mug. Eleanor sat there, on the mat, mug wrapped in her hands, crying silently. Shauna just watched.

When the tears had stopped falling, Eleanor looked up at Shauna. She was sitting in the chair across the room, legs folded under her and a heavy look in her eyes. "What are you doing, Eleanor?" she asked after a moment. Her voice was thick with emotion. Probably anger.

"I…"

"You're going to get yourself killed."

Eleanor didn't know what to say. She just looked at her friend and tried to apologize with that look. She wanted to tell Shauna that she was okay and that she would be okay, but it would have been a lie. Eleanor wasn't sure if she would be okay. "I'm sorry," she finally managed to say. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" She repeated those two words slowly, quietly, but she wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. Or who she was apologizing too. Across the room, Shauna's blank face cracked and she slid out of the chair, crossed the room in three steps, and dropped to her knees in front of Eleanor, wrapping her arms around her friend and cradling her to her chest. "I can't stop it, Shauna. I can't…"

"I know." Shauna pressed her cheek to the top of Eleanor's wet hair. "But what _are _you doing?" she asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because... I want to help."

Shauna sighed and hugged Eleanor tighter. "Is this because of what happened with the Doppelganger? Batman never should have let you help…"

"I would have done it anyway." Eleanor gently pushed away from Shauna and stared into her light blue eyes, face as serious as she could make it with tears still clinging to her cheeks. "He let me help because he knew I had a better chance of surviving at his side. I would have gone after her anyway." Her voice was level, more her own, as she said it. Eleanor had always known that was the truth, but aside from Bruce, she had never told anyone she'd been planning on hunting down the insane criminal by herself.

"But why…" Shauna paused. Her eyes went distant for a moment and her brow furrowed as she fell deeper into her thoughts. "Unless he wanted the nanomachines for you because…" It was like a light bulb went off in Shauna's brain. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Eleanor.

"No, no, no, no..." Eleanor closed her eyes and leaned back against the glass of the sliding door.

But Shauna's mind was already working. The wheels were already turning. "Bruce had us modify the nanomachines because he knew how you acted when the Doppelganger attacked your family. He had us modify them because he saw how close you came to dying. He has us modify them because he knew you'd continue to go after criminals. He had us modify them because he didn't want you to get yourself killed helping him."

"No, no, no, no…"

Shauna didn't hear her friend's quiet protests. "Eleanor," she said, her voice low. "Is Bruce Batman?"

"No," she answered, trying to make her voice sound flabbergasted by the suggestion. But she was too tired, too sore, too burdened by other things to lie effectively. Eleanor closed her eyes again. She didn't want to see Shauna's face as she busted open the biggest secret in Gotham City.

"He _is _Batman."

The apartment fell silent. The only sound was the rain outside. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. Eleanor remained half-lying on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed, but Shauna got to her feet and crossed the small living room back to her chair where she once against curled into a ball. Eventually, Eleanor opened her eyes and pushed herself up until she was sitting properly. The nanomachines had done their job and she was feeling better. As for the mental stress of having almost killed a man less than two days ago, well, it was being momentarily overshadowed by Eleanor being responsible for Shauna figuring out Bruce's secret. The girls' eyes met across the room. There was a small smile on Shauna's face.

Eleanor was so far from smiling. She didn't know what to do, so she said the first thing that came to mind. "Don't tell anyone."

"Do you think I'm _stupid_? Of course I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Don't tell anyone about me or Bruce. Not even Adam. _Especially _not Adam."

"I _won't_."

"He's going to kill me…" Eleanor breathed.

"Just tell him I figured it out by myself."

Eleanor sighed and started to pull her gloves and jacket back on. "I should have been able to lie. I have to be able to convince people who have their suspicions that they're wrong. It's part of the gig." Once she was dressed, her hair and eyes bled back to black at the barest of thoughts. "Besides, he's already going to be pissed at me… I… lost control last night and fled before he could catch me. It's been twenty…" Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. "Twenty eight hours."

"What did you do?"

The weight of her mistakes settling back about her shoulders, Eleanor fixed a sad gaze on Shauna. "I think it's better for our friendship if you don't know the details."

Before Shauna could answer, Eleanor pulled the door open and once again stepped into the rain. The cold water felt good on her face. Her head was clearer than it had been in the past day, and even though she wasn't looking forward to it, it was time to head back to Wayne Manor, back to the Batcave and face the music. Face whatever anger Bruce had in store for her. She leapt back across the narrow space and took a moment—eyes closed, deep breath—before running in the general direction of home.

Somewhere along the way, it occurred to Eleanor that she could have changed her appearance and found an easier way to get across the city, but she dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered her head. Running felt good, much better than it had felt lately. It was early morning before she hit the grounds of Wayne Manor, the first grey light of dawn breaking along the horizon as she ducked into the trees to find one of the auxiliary entrances. Bruce would still be down in the cave, probably still in the garb of Batman, but she didn't want to come down the stairs. She didn't want to give him any notice of her return. After a moment of looking, Eleanor found the river she was looking for and followed it until she reached the foot of the waterfall. Behind the tumbling water was the main exit for the Batmobile.

She slid into the icy water and swam towards the base of the fall, her jeans and boots weighing her down. After taking as deep of breath as she could manage, Eleanor dove and swam under the pounding water, her face, chest and stomach scraping along the rocky bottom with the effort. Before long, the pressure vanished and her hands found the smooth metal platform which extended beyond the waterfall, forming a road for the tank-like vehicle to drive on. She surfaced and took another deep breath, the sound echoing along the passage. The noise would travel far, but likely not far enough for Bruce to hear in the main cave.

As she trudged towards the cave proper, a knot of apprehension began to form in her gut. Her wet clothes weren't the only thing weighing her down. In the safety and darkness of the cave, Eleanor returned to her regular appearance and pulled the elastic out of her hair, the damp locks falling about her face and shoulders. She pulled off her gloves and shoved them in the pockets of her jacket so she could run her fingers through her hair, attempting to pull the knots out of it. Along the way, she started to cry again, tears of anger at herself and fear of what was awaiting her at the end of the long tunnel. She wiped her eyes. She would not meet Bruce with tears in her eyes. She had to appear strong. She had to appear in control. She didn't want to lose it like she had with the man in the alley. She would _not _lose control of her emotions when it came to Bruce. She would _not _hurt him.

The first bit of light from the cave poured down the passage, making Eleanor blink. She didn't realize until that moment how good her night vision was; she hadn't even realized she was walking in complete darkness.

Eleanor stopped walking and pressed herself into the shadows. The tunnel she was walking through had a relatively flat bottom, and had probably been a river at one point, which made it ideal for driving the Tumbler, but not so good for sneaking out of. It would enter the cave on one of the lower levels, near where the Batmobile was parked, so Bruce might not notice her right away, but it wouldn't take him long. She would be in the open. He would see her.

She took yet another deep breath, squeezed her hands into fists and stepped into the light.

It took three steps to realize there was someone in the cave. Four steps for him to realize it wasn't Alfred. Five steps for him to look down and see her.

He didn't say anything as she climbed the ramp up to the main computer terminal. He didn't say anything until she was standing right in front of him, staring up at him. "Where have you been?" he asked. Bruce didn't sound angry yet, but there was an edge to his voice. He sounded like he was about to slip into the growl of Batman's voice. It was an odd thing to hear when he was dressed so normally in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Around," she managed, her voice very nearly breaking under her emotions.

Bruce raised one hand as if he was going to touch her face, but dropped it again as he sighed. "Why did you run?" he asked in the same tone.

"I was… I am afraid."

For many long, tense moments, he looked down at her. "Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"I'm still in one piece." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But no," she continued. "I'm not okay." She opened her mouth again to tell him that Shauna knew his secret. For no reason she could have expressed, she closed it and pressed her lips into a tight line. "I'm… sorry."

He remained standing upright, shoulders tensed like he was waiting for something, an attack, and then sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, near her neck. She stepped into him then and slid her arms around his chest, pressing her face into the soft fabric of his t-shirt and closing her eyes. He relaxed further, wrapping his arms around her neck and shoulders and putting his chin on top of her head, effectively encasing her in his arms. They stood like that for a while. Eleanor's shoulders started to shake as the chill finally worked its way down to her bones.

"You should get upstairs and get some sleep," he whispered against her hair. "We've got to be at the office for nine this morning."

She nodded against his chest, but it was still another moment before she pushed away from Bruce and crossed the cave to the elevator. He didn't follow her. He'd finish whatever he was doing and get maybe three hours of sleep before rising, putting on the playboy persona and heading into Wayne Enterprises. Eleanor watched him at the computer desk until the lift rose into the mansion walls and she couldn't see him anymore. Before falling into bed, she had a shower with the water turned up almost as hot as it could go and dressed in thick flannel pants and a long-sleeved shirt once she was dry. Eleanor was cold, but she wasn't sure it was the kind of chill you could fix with heat. She was half-asleep buried under the covers when she heard the door open and close, the gust of air bringing the scent of Alfred's cologne to her nose.

For no reason she knew, she pressed her face into the thick comforters and cried until she passed into unconsciousness.

* * *

"What did you tell the people at the office when I didn't show up for however long?"

Bruce looked across the bench seat at Eleanor. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a bright blue blouse that made her eyes stand out. Unfortunately, the shirt also highlighted the sunken look to her face and the pale quality her skin had taken on in the last few days. "Lucius told everyone who asked that you were suffering from a bad flu." She nodded and tried to smile at him. He was no more successful than she. "You don't have to come to these meetings if you want to get some more rest."

"I'll be okay, Bruce. I slept fine. I just… Okay, I didn't sleep fine. I kept nightmares." She turned her cobalt eyes to him, and they were too wide, showing too much white. He had never seen her looked so lost before. "Do you ever have nightmares?" she asked in the same quiet voice she'd spoken to him last night in.

That voice disturbed him. "Yes."

"Do they go away?"

He badly wanted to say yes. But he wouldn't lie to her. Not about this. "No. You just get better at dealing with them."

She sighed and nodded. "That's good enough."

Alfred pulled the car into Bruce's parking spot in the parking garage at Wayne Tower. Bruce and Eleanor remained in the back seat, not so much waiting for Alfred to come and open their doors, as they just weren't quite ready to step into their public appearances. Bruce could turn the playboy on and off as if the persona was attached to a light switch, but Eleanor was going to have to pretend to be happy to be back at work, and Bruce just didn't know how far her acting skills were going to go today. Alfred opened Eleanor's door first, and she stepped onto the concrete, her heels clicking loudly. She slipped her plaid wool coat on as Bruce was climbing out of the car. They walked across to the elevator together, Alfred climbing back behind the wheel and driving off as the metal doors slid shut. Once at the top floor, the elevator car stopped, the doors sliding open again, revealing the polished tile floor and the stern face of Lucius Fox.

"Ms. Black, you're looking… well," he said. The last time he'd seen her, she been bedridden, high on morphine and trying to survive the nanomachines introduction and subsequent destruction of her normal human systems. So, standing on her feet, looking mostly like herself, was a huge improvement. "Glad to see you back."

She smiled, and Bruce was impressed at the light she was able to put behind it. "Good to be back, Mr. Fox."

He nodded and turned to Bruce. "Good morning Mr. Wayne."

"Morning Lucius."

The trio headed across the empty elevator lobby to the meeting room where almost every seat around the table was full. Lucius cut a direct path to the front of the room where he stood in front of a large projector screen currently displaying a hi-resolution image of the company logo. Eleanor and Bruce slid into two of the empty seats near the back of the room. Bruce was paying attention, even though he didn't look like, but Eleanor very clearly wasn't. Luckily for her, she was just the boss' assistant and wasn't really required to pay attention, especially since she'd just returned from sick leave.

The meeting was a gathering of the heads of departments to discuss what everyone was working on, ideas everyone had and was generally very boring. There were a few interesting ideas brought to the table, but really, when the meeting finally ended, everyone was glad to get out of the room and head off in search of food. Eleanor, Lucius and Bruce crossed the hall to the executive offices and piled into the large space Lucius had been given as the man who ran the company.

"How are you, Eleanor?" he asked. There was no public pretence in his voice now.

"I'm tired, but I'll be all right. Just adjusting," she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Anyone else want a cup?" she asked, attempting to act like her normal self.

"I'll have one," Bruce said.

Eleanor poured him a mug full and sat down in the empty chair beside him as she handed him the ceramic cup. Lucius leaned forward on his desk. He opened his mouth to say something, but there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for an invitation, Shauna opened the door and stepped into the office, followed by Adam. She placed a thick file on Lucius' desk before turning to Eleanor and Bruce. She crossed the room and hugged Eleanor.

"You two are friends again?" Adam asked, clearly confused.

Bruce chuckled, and it wasn't entirely forced.

* * *

Selina Kyle picked up the remote from the end table and turned on the big screen television she'd just had mounted on the wall. It buzzed to life, the high definition picture displaying the heavy made-up news anchor sitting at her desk, facing the camera with a blank expression and obviously reading from the teleprompter in front of her; the papers in her hands hung limp and forgotten. Selina slid into the corner of her white leather couch and wrapped her arm about the black cat which folded itself into her lap. She stroked Isis' back idly as she watched the news, only half-listening to the story about another shooting in the south of Gotham.

After the "top stories", the anchor changed to a blonde woman with bright brown eyes and a large smile on her face, showing off as many teeth as she possibly could. High society reporters had to look their best.

_"All the buzz in the world of the rich today seems to be about Bruce Wayne and the upcoming Wayne Foundation fundraiser. In a week and a half, Gotham will host the annual event with wealthy and influential people attending from all over the world. But what everyone wants to know is who will Bruce Wayne, Gotham's most eligible bachelor, take as his date to the party?" _

Selina rolled her eyes and scowled loud enough to startle her cat. Sure, Bruce Wayne was handsome as all get out and she wouldn't have minded attending a party or two on his arm, but from everything she'd heard, he was a vapid as he was good looking, and she couldn't comprehend why anyone would care so much about who he was taking the next party. About the only thing interesting when it came to the guy was what kind of treasure he had lying around that giant house of his. Briefly, Selina wondered if she'd be able to get past the security and have a look for herself. Probably not. Even if she could get past the security on the grounds, there would be layers upon layers of deterrents around anything worth taking. Maybe if she did go to a few parties with Mister Wayne, she'd be able to get inside the manor and have a look around… Hm. Now that was worth some thought.

On the television, the anchor switched back to the bored-looking woman from before and she began talking about Batman's new sidekick, Darkshade or whatever they were calling her. Selina's attention was drawn back to the screen, but she scowled again, remembering how the woman had stopped her from getting her hands on that gorgeous cat statue.

_"Speculation still continues to run wild about who this new masked vigilante could be," _the woman was saying. _"Candidates run from the mayor's wife to various celebrities. This reporter thinks it will be about as easy to figure out who she is as it has been to identify Batman himself. Some maintain that Darkshade is actually working with Catwoman…"_

Selina's attention dissipated after that and she took her hand from her cat's back to surf through the channels. She managed to find a channel playing the Disney movie _The Aristocats_, and, smiling to herself, she settled in to watch it.

* * *

_KABOOM!_

Queen of Spades, or Queen as she'd started answering to, smiled a savage grin as the mailbox exploded ahead of her. She chucked another kinetically charged card forward and giggled as it hit a telephone pole and the top half of the log went rocketing skyward. She licked a line of blood off her chin as the stitches in her face pulled and reopened the wound for about the third time since Harley Quinn had sliced her a new smile.

An overweight man ran screaming from her path and tried to get in a shop that was, since it was nearly two in the morning, closed. Queen chuckled and pulled another queen of spades from the pack nestled between her breasts. She crossed the street and stood in front of the man, who had stopped running, and was standing with his back pressed against the brick wall. He was shaking and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. Queen licked the back of the card and pressed it to his forehead, smiling the Cheshire Cat when it stuck. Leaving the man paralyzed with fear, she turned on the spike heel of her purple boot and strode off down the sidewalk, humming a demented version of that circus song… What was it called? Ah yes, "The March of the Gladiators".

A dark shape dropped to the sidewalk in front of her, the edges of his cape billowing like living shadows. It was Batman, and he was alone, a deep scowl on those pretty lips. "Where's your little friend?" Queen asked, her words dragging slightly because of her stitches.

"Where are your friends?"

"Touché Batsie, but I'm not going to tell you that. That would spoil the fun and Mister J wouldn't like it if I did that, now would he?"

Almost quicker than she could see, Batman tossed three metal bat-shaped shuriken towards her, one embedding itself in her shoulder and the other two whistling past as she crouched. As she rose to her feet, she shot two charged cards at the Caped Crusader, growling angrily as he escaped with the aid of his grappling hook. "Where are you runnin' to?" she asked in a sing-song voice as she began to climb up a nearby fire escape. "You're not going to get away from me-eee."

Batman landed a solid roundhouse kick in her stomach as she alighted to the roof, nearly sending her flying back to the pavement below. She grabbed the railing and used her momentum to swing her foot up and towards Batman. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her towards him, grabbing her wrist as she went for a card and pulling her deck from her chest.

"Oh, naughty boy," she chided with a lopsided grin. "Mustn't get too eager. It's only our first dance." She pushed herself closer to his broad chest and slid one hand down to his belt, pulling free the first thing she wrapped her fingers around and throwing it into his face. The smoke pellet exploded in his face and he stumbled backwards coughing. Unfortunately for Queen, she was too close to escape the smoke completely and took a few steps away from the cloud, trying not to choke on her lungs. "What do you keep in that belt of yours?"

"Lots of things," he said, voice clear a lot soon than expected. Or, as clear as Batman's gravely growl ever got.

A bolas spun out of the smoke and wrapped around her knees, taking her to the roof. Her chest hit the edge and she was suddenly looking down four stories to the pavement below. The fat man was still standing there, but now a group of people had gathered around him and every one of them was staring up at her; several of the spectators had cell phones in their hands. If she didn't get out of here soon, the police would come and she would get caught. And then she'd be in trouble. She couldn't say if the Joker would bust her out of jail, but she knew even if he did, he'd give her his own brand of punishment, and there was no doubt in her mind that that would be scarier than anything the Gotham City Police could throw at her.

She heard Batman's boots crunch gravel as he approached. Queen pulled the bolas from around her legs and chucked it at him, the energy in her gloves crackling around the metal bats on the end of the cable. He batted the projectile away with one gauntleted hand. Using the minimal distraction to its best advantage, Queen was already running across the roof as she threw the thing.

Something cracked beside her and a thick cord wrapped around her arm. It wasn't anything Batman used. It was a whip, and it pulled her to the ground.

Her purple eyes rotated around, looking for who had come uninvited to the party.

A woman was standing on the edge of the roof, looking impossibly tall. She was wearing a black body suit that fit her like a second skin, boots that came to mid-calf and orange goggles over her face. There were cat ears on her head. Catwoman. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked, one eyebrow rising in time with her smirk.

Queen snarled and pulled out of the whip. She grabbed a handful of the gravel on the roof and threw it at the burglar's face, the tiny pieces of rock exploding upon contact. They weren't large enough to do any damage, but they knocked the woman back, giving Queen time to scurry away. She was over the edge of the roof and down in the alley before she heard any sounds of pursuit. There was no way she was hanging around to see the end of this showdown. She kicked her boots off her feet, shoved them under one arm and ran.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Slow Me Down – Emmy Rossum.

Oh God! Look at me, updating everything other than Supernatural… Enjoy it! I have time to update right now, so I will be updating. Fun times. I'm excited to write the rest of this story because it's dramatic and romantic and angsty and fun. It'll be great to write. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

I think this chapter has the longest run of text without dialogue that I've ever written. Huh.

For the record, I was listening to "Clipping" by MuteMath while I was writing the first part of this chapter. If you want to get the full effect, or at least the effect I had while writing, download and listen to that song while you read it. Also, "Bring Me the Disco King" by David Bowie.

Hmm… lots of rooftops and convenient fire escapes in my writing… I promise I'll think of something more original next time.

**Next Chapter: Learn to Fly; Communication Breakdown. **


	8. Chapter Eight: Learn to Fly

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Eight: Learn to Fly; Communication Breakdown.

* * *

Eleanor grabbed the bar in the opening of the cave where the river flowed into the darkness and swung back and forth until she had enough momentum to launch herself forward into the Batcave proper. The sturdy soles of her knee-high black boots struck the wet stone and held, allowing her to run forward towards the computer and main area of the cave; she had had a productive night out on solo patrol and her success had fostered a positive attitude and that in turn had given her a great deal of energy. It felt good to, well, to feel good after such uncertainty. Yes, she was still alarmed that she had almost killed someone and yes, there was still seeds of doubt festering about and yes, she was still waiting for a moment to tell Bruce that Shauna had figured out his secret identity, but in that moment, Eleanor felt that the nanomachines and what they had given her were good. No, great.

She unzipped her leather jacket and pulled it off, draping it over the back of the computer chair. Eleanor stood for a moment in the chilly air of the cave, in the black tank top and jeans serving a temporarily costume and didn't feel the cold. She removed her ski mask and stretched her hands up until her shoulders popped and then dropped into the chair to remove her boots. Barefoot and with the boots and coat tucked under one arm, she padded across the cave to the enclosed room where she would hang her temporary costume beside the Batsuit and change into the clothes Alfred had set out for her.

Eleanor was eager to tell Bruce of her accomplishments that night, of taking out the muggers and robbers and a would-be rapist, but she had arrived at the cave before him and would have to wait. She changed into her favourite jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt—made a mental note to give Alfred a hug or something for picking out comfortable clothes—and then returned to the computer chair and dropped heavily into it to watch the icon that was the Batmobile and wait.

She was studying her bluish nails when Bruce returned several long moments later. He stopped in front of the chair and looked at her but before the new vigilante could express her pride in her work, Bruce's face settled into a batglare and Eleanor wavered. He was mad at her. Disappointed in her. For something. For running. For going out alone. Suddenly, Eleanor was sitting in the computer chair, afraid to say anything because she didn't want Bruce mad at her, didn't want him to yell. She knew that if he yelled, she would yell and that the anger fuelled by the nanomachines might return. It would not be good.

"Where were you?" he asked, voice low and even.

It was a dangerous voice. Eleanor knew that. "I was out on patrol," she said, trying to make her voice light. "There's something I have to tell you..."

"Why did you go out alone? What made you think that was a good idea?"

Eleanor flinched at the emotion in his voice. He may have been angry with her, but he had also been worried and with her display a couple nights ago, she couldn't blame him. It occurred to her that she could have lied about her whereabouts, but she dismissed it almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Bruce would have known she was lying and that would just make things worse. She also thought about pressing on and telling him that Shauna knew his secret, but again, for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, she didn't. "You left without me so I went out on my own," she said simply. That was the truth. He had given her the right to be on patrol and he couldn't take it away now. That thought in her mind, Eleanor turned her cobalt eyes to the cowl and narrowed them. She wasn't going to let him win. "I did well on my own, Bruce."

"So you think the nanomachines are done?" He stared at her and something passed behind his eyes. As he spoke his next words, his face went blank, almost as if he foresaw the reaction, but spoke anyway. "Do you think you're safe?"

"_Safe_? Do I think I'm _safe_?" Eleanor closed the distance between her and Bruce and glared up at him, the heat that had accompanied her rage after injection reappearing in her gut. She ignored it. "Safe for what? For unleashing on the public? For being around people? Do I think I'm safe to be one of the good guys?" She slapped her hand against his chest hard, but not hard enough to actually hurt, although he did almost take a step back. "You gave me the means to be here and if I'm not safe to be among people than that is not my fault!"

Bruce pulled the cowl off his head so he could look at Eleanor with his own eyes and not through the mask of Batman—not that it made much a difference when he was as mad as he was. "I gave you the means to keep yourself alive! You would have run out there with no training or _anything _and got yourself killed!"

"I'm not going to get myself killed, Bruce!"

"You can't know that!"

"I KNOW I CAN'T!"

"I am trying to keep you alive! Running out there on your own when you don't know the extent of your abilities, of your emotions, of _anything _you're capable of now is going to get you and who knows how many other people killed!"

Eleanor pulled her arm back and slapped Bruce across the face, her nails catching his cheek and cutting deep furrows along the flesh. "I WOULD NOT KILL ANYONE!" she roared, face crimson with rage and hurt. When she saw the blood begin to trickle down Bruce's face, she gasped and covered her mouth with the offending hand, the blushing tinge to her nails more purple through Bruce's blood. "Bruce…" She blinked, fighting off tears. "I…" Something else seemed to flood her face then; her eyes darkened. "What," she gasped. "What have you done to me?" Her voice came out in a strangled cry and seemed to war with herself for a moment before turning on her bare heel and running into the shadows of the cave, her hands clamped to her face. As she disappeared, her scream echoed across the rocks.

Bruce stood there for a moment, a little thunderstruck by Eleanor's mood swings, but he could not ignore the seed of worry. Were the nanomachines twisting her like they had Ashlynn? Had her hands been on her face because her skin was bubbling and turning green? Had she screamed because she was in pain? Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed. He stared at the darkness where Eleanor had disappeared. Briefly, he considered going after her, trying to find her.

It didn't take long for him to dismiss that thought, get changed and head upstairs.

* * *

"When can we play hacky sack with the Bat, Mista J? I'm gettin' tired of sitting around this dreary place."

The Joker didn't answer at first, too absorbed in the photographs Queeny had taken over the last couple nights. She had been following the Bat and his new sidekick—when she showed up—and taking pictures, trying to find something, _anything_, that would help the Clown Prince of Crime determine who was behind the mask. He had looked at these photos many, many times, but he kept looking, looking for something new that jumped out at him. Queeny was out right now, actually, tracking the do-gooders and the Joker was eager awaiting her return to see if she had any new information.

Harley appeared over his shoulder, the baubles on the points of her hat smacking lightly against his cheek. "Why are you so focused on this new girl?" she asked. "How is knowing who she is gonna help us get the Bat?"

"The only way to get to the Bat is through those he keeps close, Harl."

"But—"

"No buts. I hear Queeny."

As the words left his mouth, there was a loud clang that told everyone within the old warehouse that someone was entering the old warehouse; a bought of cackling followed, telling everyone that it was the Queen of Spades. Like the Joker and Harley Quinn, Queeny had developed her own distinctive laugh. The red-eyed villain skipped into the room which had become the office and tossed a pile of pictures on the table. They fanned out, revealing a series of shots of Darkshade, running over rooftops, beating up small-time crooks—just a standard night in the vigilante world. But there was no sign of the Bat. Nothing else interesting caught the Joker's eye. Nothing that revealed any clues to her ID. The Joker stared down at the pictures for a moment and then raised his glance to Queen's face, eyes narrowed and displeasure.

"How do you expect me to do anything with these?" he asked.

Queeny shrugged, idly twirling a card through the fingers of one hand; purplish energy cracked around the card. "I followed her all night. That's all I got."

"And where was the Bat?"

"He wasn't with her. She was by herself all night."

The Joker produced a large, smiling fish from somewhere and smacked the Queen of Spades across the face with it. She went down, knocked unconscious by the weight of the animal and the strength behind the swing. The green-haired young woman remained sprawled on the floor while Harley Quinn poked her side with the toe of her boot and the Joker flipped once again through the largely useless pile of pictures. He stopped when he got to one in the middle however, his greenish brows knitting together in the middle of his forehead.

There was a blurry person in the background of that picture. A blurry person with one blurry hand raised. A blurry person who Darkshade was headed towards.

"QUEEN!" Joker roared. "WAKE UP!" He waited a moment before gesturing to Harley who tossed a bucket of ice water on the newest villain in Gotham City. Queeny shrieked, but climbed to feet and shook herself off. Still dripping, she moved to stand beside The Joker, who promptly moved to the other side of the table. "Don't drip on me and tell me who that is," he ordered, pointing to the blurry figure.

Queeny peered at the person, great drops of water landing on the photo. "I don't know."

"WELL FIND OUT!"

Queeny nodded and ran back into the main room of the warehouse, where the beds for the henchmen had been set up. She found her "room" in one corner and immediately set to work, using the purple laptop she'd stolen a couple days ago. She had an excellent memory and was able to recall the street name, the building number—everything she needed except the apartment number. But she had a place to start and she would find some names and she would know what she was going to do when night fell again. Queeny sat there with her newly scarred mouth twisted in a Joker-like smile and laughed.

* * *

Not for the first time, it felt odd and almost wrong, for Bruce to be sitting in the boardroom at Wayne Enterprises, listening to the words of someone desperate to rise higher in the business world, when there was so much to be done in realm of Batman. The board members were discussing last quarter's earnings and what could be done to make more money this quarter. Once the presentation was done, ideas would be presented and taken down for Lucius to go over later. Bruce had sat through a million meetings like this one before, and there would be a million more. He sighed and settled farther into the chair, his blue eyes on the front of the room, loosely following the presentation, but his mind was somewhere else, as it often was.

His mind was back in the cave, in the dark with Eleanor, who, to his knowledge, hadn't emerged since their fight the night before. As he thought about that fight, his hand rose to his cheek, to the scabs that had formed over the wound, fingers lightly tracing the trails of the wound. Bruce was worried about Eleanor, but he wasn't sure what he could do. She was right—he had given her the means to be out on those rooftops and he had no right to take that away from her now. But he knew that he was also right. She shouldn't have gone out alone when there were so many doubts about her abilities and how she would react under different forms of pressure. He feared she was losing or would lose control.

Yes, he was worried about her—he cared about her, maybe even loved her—but he was also reaching the end of his patience when it came to her outbursts and mood swings. He couldn't be annoyed with her though; at least not for the most part. She didn't always have control over her actions, her words. That much was clear. Part of Bruce wished he had not let her out on patrol yet, that he had waited a little longer for her to adjust to the nanomachines. Another, smaller part, almost regretted injecting her with the nanomachines in the first place, a part that was quickly overpowered. The reasons behind the nanomachines still held true: Eleanor would have run out into the world of vigilante without any training or idea what she was doing and she would have got herself killed. She was stubborn and wanted to help. He had given her the means to do just that.

_I should have waited._

He could have used to help to deal with The Joker, his henchwomen and Catwoman, but she wasn't going to be much help hiding the Batcave.

As Bruce's thoughts drifted past Catwoman, the robber's lithe figure appeared in his mind, catsuit, whip and all. She was an interesting sort of criminal, one he hadn't encountered before in his relatively short career. Catwoman was clearly one of the masked figured of Gotham; she had adopted a name and persona for herself, but unlike the other criminals, she hadn't killed anyone and it didn't seem to be so high on her list. She would protect herself, but she hadn't killed anyone to Bruce's knowledge. She was selfish and greedy and stole incredibly valuable things—most of which had some connection to cats—but she wasn't out for blood. All the other masked criminals killed indiscriminately. Catwoman was different and she... well, she intrigued the Caped Crusader of Gotham City.

Bruce realized the direction of his thoughts and forced them away from the thief.

Eleanor came without effort back into his mind, as did Ashlynn, the woman who had stolen and used the nanomachines and effectively catalyzed Eleanor's involvement in the world of vigilantism. He saw Ashlynn as she had become near the end, after prolonged use of the nanomachines when they were in the prototypal phase. He saw her twisted, incapable of using her limbs properly and incapable of using one arm at all, greenish skin, hearing voices, killing even those who were closest to her… The nanomachines had been finished, essentially remade, but there was still part of Bruce that worried he had condemned Eleanor to the same fate. If that was the case, he wasn't sure what would happen. If Eleanor started to exhibit any of the more extreme symptoms, if she started become what Ashlynn had become... Bruce really did not know what he would do. What could be done.

He thought about her still in the cave and had the distinct urge to leave the meeting at that moment and head home to find her, to make sure he was okay. But he knew that if she was still mad, and she probably would be, she wouldn't talk to him, that she would hide because she was afraid and angry and unsure.

Bruce sighed and hoped that Alfred would be able to talk Eleanor down, just as he had right after the injection.

* * *

Eleanor wished she could feel cold. She had been wandering through the deeper parts of the cave for a long time, and she felt no temperature change beyond a slight chill. If she had been cold, she would have been more apt to return to the cave proper, to go upstairs and get cleaned up and dressed and live her life as normal. The young woman turned her cobalt eyes towards the computer terminal—a faint glow in the dark—and sighed. She knew she was perfectly capable of returning even if she wasn't cold, but she was afraid. She didn't want to face Bruce. She didn't want to see the marks on his face, the marks that she had caused. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold in ways other than temperature.

Things had been going so good. She was with Bruce Wayne, she was working with Batman, she was happy... but, well, Eleanor had the very real urge to scream her frustrations to the rock and wake the thousands of bats who made the cave home. She huffed and rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes, warding off the tears that had been pricking at the back of them since she'd slapped Bruce.

Oh, how she regretted that. It wasn't his fault and she shouldn't have said that it was.

She huffed again, the noise turning into a groan that echoed around her. "You're being stupid," she whispered harshly to herself. "Get your ass back there and clean up and apologize to Bruce when he gets home." There was a moment where she stood completely still, back to the cave proper and facing into the darkness, fighting an internal battle. The moment passed and she turned sharply and nearly ran back to the computer screens, the light guiding her through the treacherous dark. Eleanor didn't expect to find Bruce sitting at the computer or standing in the cave, and she didn't. She also didn't expect to find Alfred, standing straight and still with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he had been there for hours and could wait for hours still. But him she found. "Alfred," she gasped, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

The butler caught her as she approached and stumbled, hands on her upper arms. "It's all right," he said softly as Eleanor righted herself and tried to stop the tears from falling.

"Where's Bruce?" she asked.

"Master Bruce is at Wayne Enterprises."

"Right... the meeting."

Alfred's hand had not left Eleanor's arm; she was grateful for the contact. "Come upstairs Ms. Black. I will make you some lunch and you can get yourself cleaned up."

Eleanor nodded and let Alfred lead her to the elevator and upstairs into the warmth of the mansion. She went upstairs to her room and showered quickly, washing away the sweat of the previous night's activities and changed into a worn pair of blue jeans and a baggy long-sleeved black shirt. Barefoot with her hair unbrushed and hanging damp around her shoulders, Eleanor returned to the kitchen, welcomed by the smells of soup and bread and tea. She slid into one of the chairs at the island and leaned heavily on the butcher-block top, cheek pressed to the smooth wood. Alfred deposited a steaming bowl in front of her, accompanied by warm slices of bread and a mug of tea, before sitting in the chair beside Eleanor, an identical meal in front of him.

"Thanks Alfred," she mumbled as she began to spoon the hearty soup into her mouth. It was hot, but good and it instantly took an edge of her anger and sadness off.

"You are quite welcome Ms. Black."

For a while, they ate in silence, Eleanor unsure of what to say, if it would be okay to bring up what had happened, if she _could _bring up what had happened. "How... how was Bruce when he left this morning?" she asked, figuring it would be a safer way to broach a potentially nasty topic.

"If you are referring to the wounds on his face, they had scabbed over and were healing nicely. If you are referring to his state of mind, he did not seem angry."

Alfred's kind eyes bore into Eleanor like he would read her mind—or maybe that was just her. She chewed a mouthful of bread thoughtfully and took a gulp of the tea—hot and sweet, just like she liked it. "Alfred... He should be angry. What I did was stupid and mean. It's not his fault. I'm not sure why I did it." She closed her eyes, rubbed her eyes again and sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't be out there."

"Now Ms. Black, I think it is a little too late to change your mind. Is this still something you want?"

Eleanor nodded, her eyes on her soup. "Yes."

"Then this is something you are going to have to fight through."

She looked up at the aging butler, putting her spine straight.

"Master Bruce fought for what he has as the Batman and he fought for his abilities. Granted, he did not have to go through exactly what these nanomachines are putting you through—"

"I see what you're saying Alfred." A small smile pulled at her lips. "I... I asked for this. I have to make it work."

"I have faith you will do just that, Ms. Black. Master Bruce did not take so well to being a vigilante at the beginning."

"I've heard the stories," Eleanor replied, that small smile blossoming into something more of her usual wattage. She slid off her chair and took her empty dishes to the sink, where, following a direction from Alfred, left them on the counter. "Thanks Alfred," she said as she turned to leave the kitchen.

"Mr. Fox sent your costume back with me this morning. I put it in your room."

Eleanor nodded and headed upstairs, her bare feet echoing as they clapped against the hardwood. The light from the overcast day made her blue room look much bluer and she had a moment where all she wanted to do was curl up on the window seat with a comforter and read, just like she used to. She sighed and crossed the bedroom to the large bed. Alfred had laid the garment bag across the deep blue bedspread. There was a note pinned to the front of the bag in Lucius' handwriting. It said: _Let me know how everything works out. If it's good, I'll order the spare parts. _The excitement chased away more of the darkness inside and she unzipped the bag.

The first thing she pulled out was a black tank top made of some unidentifiable material and a pair of matching pants. There was a blue utility belt that made Eleanor smile—that was something that made her feel like she was actually a vigilante. Underneath everything was a leather jacket that fell to the middle of her calves and was full enough to billow like a cape when she moved. The zipper only went to hip-level, allowing infinite space for movement and the lining of the coat was the same bright blue of the utility belt. As she ran her fingers over the material of the coat, she realized it felt almost exactly like Bruce's cape, which meant it probably had all the same abilities and resistances the cape did. She went about tucking the clothes back into the garment bag and noticed the box on the floor, partially hidden by the end of the bag. Eleanor dropped to her knees, into a position that had always been uncomfortable before, and opened the box; her mind only lingered briefly on the improved flexibility before turning completely to the shoes. The boots were black, leather and knee high, just like the ones she wore now, with three silver buckles on belts around the top. The zippers went up the back of the boots and were the same blue as the coat's lining and utility belt. As she hefted the boots in her hands, she realized they were steel-toed and had reinforced soles. Also tucked into the box were a pair of black gloves with metal covering the knuckles and backs of her hands.

Eleanor sat on the floor and smiled, looking at the costume that completed her physical identity as Darkshade.

She vaguely heard the door open and shut downstairs and knew Bruce was home.

Suddenly, she couldn't move. She didn't want to see Bruce. She didn't want to see his face, see the anger or whatever he was feeling in his eyes. She didn't want to face him knowing that she still had to tell him that Shauna knew his secret.

Eleanor got to her feet, crossed the room and shut the door to her bedroom. She leaned back against it and sighed heavily, the happiness she had felt vanishing in a blink.

* * *

The Queen of Spades had gone out as soon as full darkness fell and took to the rooftops. She hadn't been able to find out who the blurry woman was from the little information she had, but that didn't means he was giving up. Far from it. The Joker wanted an ID on the blurry woman and Queeny would get it for him.

Currently, she was perched on the edge of a roof, peering out into the orange light of Gotham, waiting for any sign of Darkshade. She was waiting by the building where she'd taken the picture of the blurry woman, but she wasn't going to wait much longer. She'd already been there for a good three hours and she was getting fed up with how long it was taking the stupid vigilante to show up. Queeny longed to run around and cause some havoc: blow things up, watch people splatter over the sides of buildings... The villain sighed and fiddled with the camera around her neck.

She didn't have to wait much longer.

From her place half-concealed behind an air vent, Queen of Spades sat Darkshade pull herself up over the edge of the roof; it took a moment for Queeny to recognize the vigilante since she had donned a new costume. Queeny followed silently across the roof, snapping pictures as she moved and waiting for the blurry woman to show up again. Again, she didn't have to wait long. Darkshade vaulted over an alleyway and knocked on the glass of a balcony door. She looked around, checking to make sure no one was watching. Queeny dropped down to a nearby fire escape to stay out of view, but made sure it was a place from where she could still see the balcony.

The woman who opened the door had auburn hair, just like the blurry woman. Queeny zoomed the lens of the camera in as far as she could and snapped pictures that were much clearer than the one she had before.

A savage smile split Queeny's red lips.

They could get an ID from these pictures and that put them one step closer to the Batman.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Learn to Fly – The Foo Fighters.  
Communication Breakdown – Led Zeppelin.

So holy crap, it's been a long time, but it's finally time to get back into this fic. Hopefully you guys will all pick up with this one again. I know it's been a long time, but this is my baby. **Reflection of His Enemy **and this one are a labour of love for sure and it means a lot when you guys read and review them.

Interesting fact, this chapter contains one of my most lengthy narrative passages ever. EVER.

Forgive my Joker and Catwoman if they aren't the best. It's been so long that it might take me a while to get back into the swing of writing these characters. Also, bare with me as I attempt to write a love triangle here. Or sort of one. This isn't something I've done before and I'm a fan of the Batman/Catwoman pairing, so I want to do it justice, even if it's not the actual pairing in my fic.

For the record, any fics after this I will NOT be doing the song title thing. It was a pain in the ass and I don't remember why I thought it was a good idea. Also, I can't remember and I couldn't find if I'd already described Eleanor's vigilante outfit. If I have, it's changed. If not, disregard this section of the author's not because it doesn't apply. Again, I'm not sure what I was thinking when I designed Eleanor's original vigilante outfit. This one is much, much better. Again, if I have never described the old outfit, disregard this blabbering. *grin*

Anyways, enjoy. It will not be long before I update again. I just gotta find some Batman writing mojo…

I gots ta finish this one!

And right now I've got to finish my two papers that are due tomorrow...

**Next Chapter: Falling or Flying; Nothing Ever Hurt Like You. **


	9. Chapter Nine: Nothing Ever Hurt Like You

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Nine: Falling or Flying; Nothing Ever Hurt Like You.

* * *

It was raining.

But what else was new? It always rained at this time of year in Gotham City. It was better than snow.

The usually orange-tinted night was bluish and the black buildings shimmered slightly in the dim glow from the streetlights; orange and yellow spots on mirrored surfaces. Everything looked like liquid, contained in geometric shape. It was mild out—spring was approaching—and for Gotham, quiet. Gotham was a different place when it rained.

Eleanor didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, she loved it. She loved the rain and she loved the change in brought in the city, even though it was temporary. The rain was helping to keep her calm, collected and focused as she trailed Batman across the slick rooftops of the city and the lack of reflected orange light made it easier to hide. The rain also helped keep him from detecting her, and though her senses were slightly dulled as well, she was glad Bruce wouldn't be able to pick her up unless she was really careless. She liked to think she was rarely that careless.

Currently, the Dark Knight of Gotham was perched on top of an air vent, scanning the city beneath him with the small pair of binoculars from his utility belt, a faint breeze causing his cape to billow behind him. Darkshade was hidden on the adjacent roof, watching and waiting. Why was she following him? Well, she wasn't exactly sure. She had dressed in her new costume and trailed him out of the cave on a whim and had kept following him on the same whim. Part of her wanted to run out and tell him everything now, but that was a conversation best left for the privacy of the manor and cave, since there was likely to be some yelling. Another part of her told her that he couldn't get mad at her for going out alone since she technically wasn't alone and that was why she was following him. The largest part of her mind at that moment however was telling her that she was just following him so she could be out on patrol with him. That part was also telling her to stay hidden, to watch and wait until he needed her help, if that moment ever came. Maybe he would never know she was there.

She sighed and leaned heavier against the short stone wall that kept her hidden, the smell of wet stone filling her nose. Even though she couldn't really feel the cold, Darkshade wrapped her trench coat tighter around her frame, whatever material it was made of squeaking slightly like wet leather was apt to do. She gazed at Batman, a hunched and dark figure barely perceptible in the shadows and frowned.

Eleanor very much regretted not telling him that Shauna knew his secret as soon as she had seen him. She regretted yelling at him and blaming her condition on him. It was not his fault and she knew that. She had asked for this chance and he had given it to her. He would have never given her the nanomachines had she not made it clear she would go out regardless of what he said or did. When the choice was let her get herself killed or devise a solution to keep her alive, it was clear what the choice was. She had forced him to give her the nanomachines. And that was how Shauna had found out Bruce's secret.

It was all apparently a vicious circle.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, _she told herself. She resisted the urge to smack her head back against the wall. Didn't want to alert Batman. Eleanor pushed some of her currently black hair out of her face, slicking it back thanks to the rain. _You're going to have to find some courage if you're really going to be a vigilante—and you are going to be a vigilante. If you can't even tell Bruce this, face him after your fight, what are you going to when something more important comes up? Something that could determine the fate of the city? Or innocent lives? You'll tell him tonight. You have to. _Eleanor nodded at her own command.

Eleanor realized suddenly that her gaze had drifted from Batman to the cityscape. Careless. She turned her eyes back to the vigilante and was startled to find him no longer alone. She shifted her position so she was crouched behind the wall, ready to pounce as it were and focused on the newcomer.

It was Catwoman. She was crouched on the roof, carefully placed out of Batman's reach, her whip curled in one hand and the claws on her gloves glinting in reflected light. There was a dangerous grin on her face and it reached her eyes behind her goggles, turning her face into that of a predator. But she didn't look like she was there to attack so much as she was ready to defend herself should Batman try to subdue her. The cat burglar rose from her couch, standing tall on the edge of the roof, her easy manner making the precarious position look easy; the end of her whip dropped out of her hand and looked like a tail in the darkness. She strode closer to Batman, her lips moving as she spoke.

From Darkshade's current position, all she could hear was mumbling, but she thought she heard something about The Joker. She wished she could hear better, but she didn't dare get any closer as she was pushing her luck where she was.

She was greatly disturbed by the anger rising in her gut at the sight of the burglar, but she ignored it best she could.

* * *

On another nearby rooftop—my, my, weren't the roofs of Gotham crowded this night?—Queen of Spades sat, concentrated on Darkshade watch. Her camera, now painted a brilliant purple, hung around her neck, the fingers of one hand playing along the edge of the lens. She had added a purple top hat with a green ribbon to her outfit tonight to keep the rain out of her eyes; it was something she'd found lying around the Joker's headquarters and she was very glad she'd decided on it because now she could see the impromptu meeting taking place between Batman and Catwoman and she could see Darkshade hiding and watching and looking mighty displeased. She'd been hiding all night, which was weird since she was supposed to be working with Batman, but it didn't matter. Queeny had all the pictures she needed and more for what the Joker wanted.

And she also had an ID on the blurry woman. She couldn't wait to tell Mister J about that, no she could not.

Of course, she'd have to tell him that it was because of Harley Quinn's inquiry about the familiarity of the woman's face that she'd been able to find the name for the face, but her red and black clad co-worker, as it were, deserved some praise.

Or not.

Queeny suppressed a cackle at that thought. She'd worry about it later.

She turned her red eyes back to the scene, grinning wickedly. The expression made her scars twist painfully, but that just made her smile more. There was a thought in the back of her mind—how easy would it be to launch a bomb or something that would explode and cause lots of area damage and take out all three of them? Catwoman, Darkshade and, the big prize, the Bat himself. It would be the ultimate score. But Queeny knew she couldn't do it, as much as it would be fun. The Joker had made it clear that no one kills the Bat but him. Really, Queeny was okay with that, as long as she got some action. So she just watched. She watched Catwoman move closer to Batman, leaning in as if to kiss him, but just smiling at something she'd sad. Batman didn't move under her advance, just stared her down and didn't say anything; didn't give an inch, the Bat did not. They stared at each other for almost a full moment and it was Catwoman who backed up first, the agile robber walking backwards to the edge of the roof before dropped down out of view.

Batman did not chase her.

In the wake of the bizarre occurrence, Queeny turned her eyes back to Darkshade and found her creeping towards the opposite edge of her rooftop. Not about to let her target get away, Queen of Spades dropped over the side of her perch and slid down the rough brick, her special gloves protecting her pale flesh from ripping open. She hit the lower roof and ran, leaping over the alley to grab the edge of the building. The action made very little noise. Queeny giggled quietly as she shimmied along the ledge towards the fire escape.

* * *

Darkshade dropped onto a terrace and went still. She had thought she heard something, someone coming and she was afraid it was Batman. The new vigilante pressed herself into the shadows and waited until whoever it was—if it was anyone and she wasn't just completely paranoid—to show up. Drawing on the training Bruce had given her, Darkshade slowed her breathing until it was quiet and she was almost immobile. But it wasn't Batman. It was The Queen of Spades.

Knowing she couldn't be up to anything good, Darkshade waited until the villain was standing in front of her, looking around and then prepared to attack.

"Where are you Darkshade? Where did you gooooo?" the deranged woman asked in a sing-song voice.

Without responding, Darkshade leapt out of the shadows and wrapped her arms around the villain and tackled her to the ground, her top hat attempting to tumble away but remaining in place due to a thin strap beneath the woman's chin. The Queen of Spades laughed, high-pitched and weird, rolled and shoved her gloves hands into Darkshade's face, the minimal kinetic energy enough to give the playing cards a little bit of a charge. They exploded and knocked Darkshade backwards. She stumbled, clawing at the smoking bits of card; there were small craters in her face and they hurt, but she ignored it. She snarled and moved to tackle The Queen of Spades again, her training gone in a flare-up of rage; her vision was red and all she wanted was to see the woman hurt: broken and bleeding; red amongst the green and purple.

The vivid image that entered her mind at that point scared her. She fought it.

The Queen of Spades laughed. "Is the ickle hero having troubles?"

Darkshade's head snapped up. Eleanor was losing the fight. Pain lanced up her spine and out along her nerves. She screamed and ran at the villain, eating up the short distance of the terrace in less than a second. The Queen of Spades tossed more cards and they hit their mark, exploding with distinctive pops and leaving holes in the flesh of the target, but Darkshade just kept on moving. Panic flashed across the villain's face. She ripped the hat from her head and tossed it like a Frisbee, the shiny purple gloves charging it with all the force she could muster.

Darkshade dodged.

The hat exploded against the brick wall behind her.

Vigilante met villain and the pair toppled over the edge of the terrace.

The Queen of Spades stuck an arm out and grabbed the first thing she could, laughing as the bone snapped and she smacked into the side of the building. As Darkshade found and launched her grapple line, she saw the woman scramble out of sight.

The line connected and stopped her descent, the shock nearly ripping her arm out its socket and tearing a loud curse from her mouth even as she began the ascent upwards. She knew what she would find up there. Batman would be waiting; there was no way he hadn't heard her scream. Cursing under her breath, she pulled herself over the edge of the roof, realizing as she did so that her hands were very sore; her back was still tingling from the spark of pain she'd experienced a few moments ago, but the pain in her hands was different. She dropped to her butt on the wet asphalt of the roof and peeled off her wet gloves.

There were small, bluish circles on the back of her hands.

Like bubbles had popped.

Eleanor stared at the marks, mouth slightly agape.

A fine trembling started in her fingers and worked its way along her arms until her whole body vibrated with it. The gruesome images flashed in her brain and Eleanor had the very real urge to curl into a ball and cry. But she wouldn't feel sorry for herself. She set her jaw and forced herself to look at the marks again, swimming through the panic and the fear to think objectively; the trembling didn't stop.

_Worry about this later, _she told herself as she got to her feet.

She shook her hands and pulled her gloves back on.

* * *

"Ms. Black, do these marks hurt?"

Eleanor, now dressed in jean shorts and a t-shirt, was sitting on the examination table in the Batcave in front of Alfred and his scrutinizing gaze. He had pulled the remaining bits of cards from her cheeks as carefully as he could—it still involved creating new incisions through the healed flesh and withdrawing the debris with tweezers—and cleaned the area before it could heal over again. The butler was now examining the circular marks on the backs of her hands, his glasses on the end of his nose and a small frown on his face; the marks were fading, but it was a slow process and it seemed to worry Alfred as much as it worried Eleanor. Also worrying, the space beneath the marks was depressed, like the bubble had formed completely, pushing the flesh beneath out of the way.

Batman had not been waiting for her on top of that roof and after some thought, Eleanor had deduced he'd probably gone after The Queen of Spades or Catwoman, but probably The Queen of Spades; always go after the killer first. She'd stayed out for a while longer, but her mind kept drifting to the marks on her hands and she was not able to concentrate on anything beside those things at the end of her arms. Finally admitting defeat, she'd dropped into an alley and shifted back to her normal appearance, pulling off the domino mask and shoving it into her pocket. She'd button the coat to hide the rest of her costume and shoved her still-gloved hands in her pockets before she hit the sidewalk; it was just around midnight on a Friday night so there were lots of people out wandering the street, and with the trench coat covering everything, Eleanor looked like she might have been dressed for clubbing on a cool night in the rain. She'd taken a cab back to Wayne Manor and gone right down to the cave both because the medical equipment was there and so she could wait for Bruce. There was no getting out of talking to him now.

"They don't hurt anymore," Eleanor answered quietly as she drew herself from her thoughts.

Alfred looked up at her and opened his mouth to say something else, but his thoughts were interrupted by the Batmobile squealing into the cave, spraying water from its tires, and stopping precisely in its spot. Batman leapt out of the vehicle and crossed the cave to the examination table, removing the cowl as he did so. He stopped in front of Eleanor, his blue eyes bright in an impassive face. Silence stretched between them, both unsure of what to say or what any words would lead to. Eleanor knew she didn't want to fight with Bruce anymore—she hated regretting things and she always regretted fighting with Bruce—and she guessed he didn't want to fight with her.

"Did you get her?" Eleanor asked, voice dropping even lower until she was almost whispering.

"No. She vanished close to the warehouses by the East Docks." Bruce placed the cowl on the table next to Eleanor, a small sigh escaping his lips. "It was you who screamed?"

Eleanor nodded, folding her hands around the edge of the table and leaning slightly forward, lowering her gaze from Bruce. _You're going to look at him while you talk, _she told herself. She looked back up at him, her face as serious as she could make it. "I... I was angry. Wanted to hurt her." She tightened her grip before lifting her hands towards the man in front of her. "I think I need to learn some more about meditation so I can control myself," she breathed. "I don't want this to happen again."

Bruce took her hands gently in his own and studying the marks. He ran his thumbs gently over her hands, concern and curiosity creasing his brow.

"Bruce, I'm sorry," she said suddenly, while her hands were still in his. And then it all came out in a rush—it was the only way she could do it before she lost her nerve. "I don't blame you for this and I shouldn't have said I did. I didn't mean it—anything I said. I know you only said what you did because you didn't want me to hurt anyone or myself and... well I need to learn how to control what the nanomachines are doing because they're a part of me—"

"You're rambling."

Eleanor looked up suddenly, the confused look on her face replaced quickly by a tiny smile. "Just as long as you know that I didn't mean it and I'm sorry I said it."

Bruce nodded once and squeezed her hands lightly, drawing them towards him.

"And... there's something else."

"What is it?"

Eleanor took a deep breath and slid from the table so she was standing in front of Bruce and was able to look up into his eyes, shifting her hands as she moved so she could lace her fingers through his. She was more comfortable like that, and this was important. She didn't know what revealing this information would mean for Shauna or for herself and she wasn't really sure how Bruce would react. _Only one way to find out... _Eleanor took another deep breath and then said, "Shauna figured out your secret." Bruce didn't respond right away, which made Eleanor nervous. So she filled the space with the background of the situation, taking her hands from Bruce and running her fingers back through her hair. She fought not to pace. "When I ran the other night, I ended up near Shauna's apartment. She saw me and called me inside—she knew who I was. She gave me the 'what are you doing?' speech and then she talked through it and came to the right conclusion. I tried to lie but she's not stupid and she's not gullible. I couldn't convince her otherwise." Eleanor watched the planes of Bruce's face shift slightly and she closed her eyes. I don't even know how to apologize for this, Bruce, but you had to know and I am sorry I didn't tell you right away. I didn't know how to tell you I'd screwed up so bad."

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed, barely imperceptible. When he opened his eyes again, there was no rage there and only a touch of anger, which was much less than Eleanor had expected to see. "You trust her not to tell?"

"Yes. She's not stupid and she likes her job."

That earned her a small, tight smile. "I'll keep an eye on her for a while."

"She won't like that."

"Who said she would know?"

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, but the bright smile that took over her lips dimmed the effect. She slid her arms around Bruce and hugged him, pressing her cheek into the symbol on his chest. He returned the embrace, if a little tentatively.

"Why were you following me?" Bruce asked when she pulled away.

She shrugged with one shoulder and followed Bruce as he headed to the enclosed costume containment area. She wasn't surprised by the change of subject. As he vanished inside to change, she leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "I'm really not sure," she said finally. "I wanted to go out on patrol, but I wasn't ready to face you yet; I was afraid of what I might do... And if I was following you, you couldn't get mad that I was out alone." Bruce reappeared, dressed in jeans and pulling a t-shirt over his head and he and Eleanor walked together towards the elevator. "I wanted to be out on patrol with you but I didn't want to fight anymore."

Bruce looked at her as they began to rise towards the mansion; Alfred had apparently returned to the manor proper while his charges had been talking. "We'll work on some meditation techniques tomorrow," he said.

She smiled. Eleanor suddenly wanted to ask Bruce what Catwoman had said on the roof and why he hadn't gone after her, but she didn't. Her and Bruce were not fighting and she didn't want to ruin that by starting an argument. There would be a better time to being the cat burglar into conversation. So instead, she focused on another topic, one she knew there wouldn't be any arguing over. "Do we still have to go to that benefit thing tomorrow night?"

"Well, since it is a Wayne Foundation benefit, I'd say yes," Bruce replied with a smirk.

Eleanor rolled her cobalt eyes and huffed in mock exasperation. "Fine. I guess I can put on a pretty dress and dance."

The couple exited the elevator when it clicked into place at the top of the shaft, Blaze meeting them in the hallway. Eleanor said goodnight to Bruce—even though it was only a few hours before dawn—and then followed her dog downstairs and out to the massive back porch where they played some fetch in the last dribbles of rain. When she finally began to feel tired a little while later, she headed back upstairs, changed into her pyjamas and crawled into bed beside Bruce, moulding herself to his side, savouring his warmth even though she wasn't cold.

* * *

Catwoman slid gracefully down the drainage pipe and landed without a sound on the damp ground. The rain had let up—it was still drizzling, but she didn't mind that nearly as much as she had minded the downpour. She almost hadn't gone out, but something had called to her: all the treasure waiting in Gotham City, all the possibility for wealth and shiny, shiny jewels. As she ascended another building, one that would allow her to make a beeline for her uptown apartment, she hummed quietly to herself, thinking about everything she had passed up that night.

Something had pulled her attention away from her usual task. The sight of The Joker; a real, nasty and murderous freak of Gotham—and the population of them was rising quickly.

She'd been vaulting along the roofs when she'd seen him, a flash of green in the Gotham semi-dark. Selina had stopped dead and dropped low to the roof of the building she was on; her moral compass didn't exactly point north, but she was not interested in getting tangled in the deranged world The Joker operated in. He'd been talking to that bouncy sidekick of his—Harley Quinn?—about his other sidekick and some mission concerning Darkshade and a blurry woman in a picture. It had been a very confusing conversation, but at the end of it, the clowns had traipsed back into the warehouse they were standing in front of, a loud barking emanating from the darkness behind the door. Catwoman had cringed. She didn't like dogs.

Later, she'd spotted Batman, surveying the city. An idea had popped into her mind: she'd give him the information she had about The Joker and get some lenience in return. Would Batman go for that? Maybe. She'd decided to find out. He hadn't spoken while she relayed the information, and he'd only nodded when she'd finished, but he hadn't followed when she'd left. Did that mean she'd bought herself some time?

Maybe. Batman was a confused figure in the Gotham sky, but he had seemed more interested in dealing with The Joker and his gang than her.

Huh. That could be a useful bit of knowledge.

Selina reached her apartment building and climbed up the very helpful architectural details, using her whip as a line to make gaps larger than she could jump. She'd made the ascent several times before and it was not a daunting thing, but when her boots sunk into the plush carpet of her luxury apartment, she breathed a sigh of relief; she'd hadn't taken two steps into the apartment when Isis appeared and wrapped her form around Selina's neck, whiskers brushing her cheek softly.

Selina removed her goggles and unzipped her suit as she walked, a small smile creeping onto her face as she thought about what she'd learned that night and the not-unsubstantial score she had made; she patted the small pouch thoughtfully, the stones inside clinking softly with that sound only gems could make.

She liked Gotham.

* * *

The Queen of Spades stumbled back into the warehouse to find it in a state of chaos. This was not a surprising thing, but that the chaos seemed organized around packing up everything... now _that_ was interesting. Hands wrapped around her stolen camera, the newest member of The Joker's gang went in search of her crazy leader to relay the news she had. She was eager to deliver it. So eager in fact that she ignored everyone else, vision tunnelled on the old break room door.

She entered without knocking and found Harley bouncing around the room chasing what looked like a cross between a rapid puppy and a spiky rat—it was a baby hyena. There was another one in the sink, laughing as it listened to The Joker tell it jokes. _Laughing _hyenas. Queeny rolled her eyes, but she was smiling beyond her scars. She liked them. She carefully picked her way across the room to stand in front of the man she idolized.

"What is it Queeny? You're interrupting my show."

"I found a name for the face."

"Hey! That was me!" Harley whined. "I found the name Puddin'."

The Joker waved absently at Harley. "Well what is it?"

"Shauna Messer. She works at Wayne Enterprises and has won a shitload of awards," Queeny said with a giggle.

"I found her picture in the paper, Mista J!"

"Shut up Harley!" The Joker's dangerous eyes found the rips in Queeny's dress and the lack of her top hat. "You were only supposed to watch the Lampshade! Was she with the Bat?"

Queeny took an involuntary step back, but then corrected it and bared her teeth at the Joker in a savage grin. She barely opened her mouth before his fist connected with her cheek, sending into the counter, the hyena pup laughing in her ear as its rough fur scratched along her cheek. The Joker gently removed the camera from around her neck and then the beating continued as she tried to explain that she'd had no choice and she had to fight and she had to interact with the vigilante and she had to possibly alert her to their plan and she had to show the Bat that she was there... Her voice kept going. When there was blood dripping from several cuts and you could almost see the stars floating around her head, the Joker stopped, wiping his hands on Harley's back and then straightening his garish purple suit. He marched from the break room, leaving orders for Harley to clean up and then pack up the pups so they could leave soon.

Harley dropped to a uncomfortable-looking position in front of Queeny with a dirty cloth in one hand and a bottle of alcohol—the label covered over with a scribbled XXX—in the other. She poured the booze over the cuts and said, "You shouldn't anger Mista J so, Queeny."

The Queen of Spades screamed, but there was smile on her face as she did so. "'It puts the lotion on the skin, or else it gets the hose again,'" she sung as Harley continued to clean her wounds. The hyena pups were chewing on Queen's gloved fingers.

"Exactly!" Harley agreed.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Falling or Flying – Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.

Nothing Ever Hurt Like You – James Morrison.

Blaaarg. The Joker likes to fight me. Are we surprised? No. Not in the slightest. Are we frustrated? Yes. Very much so. Do we know why we're talking in the plural? Not at all. Oh wait. "We" probably could refer to me and Eleanor, who has decided she's going to be very vocal with me now. THAT'S because I'm super excited to write some of the chapters coming up. Fair warning, it's going to get pretty emotional. On the other hand, I had to fight with this chapter a bit.

Anyways, my research papers are descending on me quickly, so the writing will slow, but I'm determined to keep it up and clear out some of my fanfictions from the queue without sacrificing quality. There are so many of them. URRRG.

On a note that I find cool, I got DC Universe Online and was able to make my character look pretty close to how Darkshade is supposed to look. Although, I couldn't get the name Darkshade. I did get The Batchild though. Almost as good. *grin*

Hey Shauna, did you realize how many of your characters have hats?

By the way, the Catwoman in this fic looks like Jim Lee's Catwoman with the goggles and everything.

Enjoy the chapter.

**Next Chapter: War Within a Breath. **


	10. Chapter Ten: War Within a Breath

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Ten: War Within a Breath.

* * *

"I miss wine."

Bruce looked down at Eleanor, one eyebrow raised above his rather goofy grin. "One of the prices you have to pay," he breathed around that smile; he was in full playboy mode, something Eleanor found rather amusing now that she knew what lay beneath that facade.

She gave an exaggerated frown in the direction of her ginger ale. "I suppose so."

Eleanor smiled up at Bruce and let him lead her towards the dance floor with a hand at the small of her back. They had arrived at the Wayne Foundation Benefit for Literacy—at least, that's what Eleanor thought the sign said. There were so many Wayne Foundation benefit galas that, unless she went to stare at the sign, she couldn't be sure—about two hours ago. After navigating the ocean of press out front and greeting the big spenders of the night, the couple had begun moving throughout the room, participating in the small talk neither were particularly fond of. While Bruce had talked to investors and donators and the other rich in attendance, Eleanor had remained with Adam and Shauna, who were both rather enjoying their first real benefit and their first social event in a very long time.

Adam's wife, Eleanor had recently learned, had left him because he spent so much time working. Eleanor had been shocked to learn of this development, but the grace with which Adam took his situation had calmed her down quickly. Apparently, the split had been amicable and Adam, though upset, had understood the reasons behind it. The split had been one of the reasons—aside from his intense interest in the project—that had kept Adam working in the lab for such long periods of time. It had been by Shauna's coaxing and her desire to get out of the lab that had brought the friends to the benefit; an invitation from Eleanor just provided the opportunity. When Eleanor had last seen Adam and Shauna, they had been seated at one of the round tables, eating and drinking with giant smiles on their faces. Looking for them while her and Bruce danced, Eleanor found them on the other side of the dance floor, Shauna's deep red dress very visible against the gold-hued walls of the hotel ballroom.

"Inviting them seems to have been a good idea," Bruce said quietly as they spun slowly.

Eleanor nodded and then smiled up at Bruce, moving as close to him as she could without hampering their movement. "They both _really _needed to get out of their lab." She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Has Lucius talked to you yet?"

"Yeah. He just wanted to make sure I wasn't going crazy or anything." She felt Bruce's shoulder tense and she moved back slightly so she could see his face again. "I'm not taking it lightly and I am _not _going crazy. I'm in no pain and nothing bizarre has happened since the last fight," she whispered.

Bruce held her eyes for a moment longer and then inclined his head in a shallow nod before moving in close again, his lips brushing her cheek gently. As he pulled back, Eleanor pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss and then offered him a small, cheeky grin before laying her head back on his shoulder and sighing in contentment; she felt Bruce smile into her hair and smiled brilliantly at the room.

When the song ended, Bruce was almost immediately pulled away by the daughter of a couple who had donated a lot of money. He went with a bright yet shallow grin on his face and Eleanor shook her head slightly, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. Truthfully, she was enjoying the "normal" night. Patrol would come later, but for that moment, it was a nice little break. She made her way over to the table where she'd eaten her dinner and settled into the spindly chair, watching the crowd of people with a smile on her face; her solitude was interrupted by Shauna and Adam dropping into the chairs across from her.

"And how are you enjoying yourself tonight Ms. Black?" Shauna asked, veritably beaming.

"Very well, Ms. Messer. And yourself?"

"I love this! I don't know why you hate these things so much. And I love your dress! Where'd you get it?"

Eleanor looked down at the bright blue, floor-length gown she was wearing, having forgotten which dress she was wearing. "I think it was a gift from my Mom, but I can't really remember to be honest. I'm committing a serious faux-pas here. I've worn this dress before!" Her and Shauna shared a moment of mock horror before they broke out into laughter.

"I don't know how you can get dressed up all the time, Eleanor," Adam chimed in. "I hate this stupid suit."

The girls laughed. Adam's suit was a nice suit, fairly expensive, but it definitely had the look of a suit that only came out for weddings and funerals. As Adam wore jeans, t-shirt and his lab coat ninety-nine percent of the time, that was not surprising.

"Stop complaining Adam," Shauna said with a warm smile. "You look great."

"You really do," Eleanor agreed.

Adam's cheeks flushed over his blond facial hair. He scratched at the side of his head and looked terribly awkward under all the praise, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Let's have another dance, Adam, and let Eleanor get back to her billionaire," Shauna suggested with a smirk. As they rose from the table, Shauna leaned close to Eleanor and asked, "Are you doing okay?"

Eleanor waved Shauna off. "I'm fine. Go dance."

As Shauna and Adam rejoined the crowd, Eleanor got to her feet and moved towards the buffet where her parents were standing, talking quietly to one another. Naomi and Liam greeted their daughter with warm hugs and she was more than happy to lean into her father's one-armed embrace. It had been too long since she'd been able to be around her parents without fear of freaking out and hurting them, so she was glad to be around them again.

"I think we're going to head home early tonight," Liam said.

"Surgery?"

"Very early surgery and I don't think my patient would appreciate me falling asleep above his brain."

Eleanor turned to hug her father properly and then repeated the gesture with her mother. "Probably not. I'll come over for dinner soon, now that I'm feeling better."

"Are you sure honey?" Naomi asked.

"That I'm better? Yes. That I'm coming for dinner? Yes."

Naomi smiled again and hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek and her forehead as she did so. "Good. We'll see you later than dear. Love you."

"Love you too Mom, Dad."

Eleanor watched her parents leave the ballroom and something inside loosened. It wasn't as if she expected anything to happen, but she had noticed that since hanging around with Batman, she'd become more suspicious, more paranoid, and had started expecting things to happen at every turn, someone to jump out from behind every obstacle. It wasn't a bad state of mind when you were a vigilante, but when you were trying to be a normal person... Eleanor sighed and ran one hand over her hair, straightening the few strands that had gotten loose from the style she'd pulled her reddish brown hair into. She was not so distracted by her thoughts to not notice Bruce appear at her shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his hand squeezing her arm gently. "Are you ready to go?"

Eleanor nodded and they started walking towards the exit—if they didn't start now, due to the press waiting around the exit, they'd never get there. But they barely made it three steps before a loud bang and an eruption of shrill screaming stopped them. They shared a look and turned back towards the ballroom and they didn't have to wait long to find out what was going on. Eleanor smelt the dust and burning substances before she saw the cloud of dust and she heard the clicking of guns before The Joker's laugh tore through the tense air. As her and Bruce were outside the main ballroom, they couldn't see exactly what was going on. That fact made Eleanor want to rush forward to survey the situation, but Bruce, sensing the urge, grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards the staircase, only letting go when she fell in step beside him and began vaulting up the steps towards the room where Alfred was waiting with the Batsuit and Darkshade's costume.

* * *

Shauna and Adam were knocked sideways by the blast, smacking into the floor several feet away from where they'd started. It only took a moment for Shauna to recover—the blast hadn't been meant to kill anyone, just to get into the ballroom, although why they couldn't have used the door, which was _right beside_ the blast hole was beyond Shauna—and she scrambled to her feet, pulling the semi-dazed Adam with her. The dust began to clear and a terrifying chorus of laughs took up the space left in the air.

The dust didn't have to clear all the way for Shauna to know who had crashed the party.

But it did, revealing the Joker, dressed in his garish purple suit with his green hair shockingly bright. There was a large revolver in one hand and his normal demented grin on his face, a grin echoed in scars on the face of the woman standing to his left. Shauna followed the news enough to know she was The Queen of Spades, and the purple gloves she wore were capable of turning anything she threw into deadly projectiles, making her as dangerous as Harley Quinn—standing to the Joker's right—her hammer, and the hyena pups she had on leashes, clutched in one hand.

"What the... Are those hyenas?" Adam gasped, his head finally clearing.

"I think so." Shauna backed up more, slowly and eyes locked on the villains, heading for the door out of the ballroom. She knew Batman and Darkshade would show up at any moment, but until then, all she could think of to do was try and inconspicuously escape. Her hand tightened on Adam's arm and he turned to her, huddling close. She pressed her face into his shoulder and whispered, "Hurry up."

The Joker and his henchwomen started moving, revealing a gaggle of goons behind them, all big, all muscular and all quite scary-looking. Goons started moving into the completely still crowd, shoving men out of the way and grabbing others—all women—by their arms or the front of their dress and tossing them into the middle of the room. Shauna ducked behind Adam, not wanting to be seen and Adam, calling upon some hidden reserved of bravery, moved so his friend was better hidden between his back and the dessert table.

"Mista J is looking for someone in particular," Harley Quinn announced, moving into a position where she could better be seen by all; with her hammer across her shoulders and the hyena pups wrestling at her feet, she cut quite the figure. "If you give her to us, maybe we'll leave you all in one piece."

"Shauna Messer," the Joker barked.

The guests, frozen in fear, began to look confused and Shauna was glad hardly anyone here knew who she was; Lucius, Adam, Eleanor and Bruce were the only ones and none of them would turn her over to The Joker. As that thought faded, another one took its place: why was the Joker looking for her? What did he want with her? She wasn't anyone special—her proudest accomplishment had been getting the position at Wayne Enterprises; she didn't even care about the awards she'd been given—so why were they after her? Regardless of the reason, the Joker and his goons started shoving people around with renewed vigour and, if Shauna could have seen the villain's face, she knew he would be reaching the end of his very limited patience. She clutched the back of Adam's suit jacket and pressed herself closer to him; thankfully, wisely, her friend did not react beyond a small straightening of his back.

"Ah Batsie-Boy!" the Joker suddenly exclaimed. "Took you long enough to show your pointy ears!"

Shauna risked peeking around Adam's shoulder to see Batman and Darkshade standing between the crowd and the villains, both half-crouched and ready for battle and the engineer had to suppress the urge to screech in joy and relief.

When Batman didn't respond to the Joker, the demented clown cackled. "Harley, Queeny," was all he said.

And then all hell broke loose.

Or, that's how it seemed anyway.

The one with the top hat—The Queen of Spades—fanned out a deck of cards and threw them, purplish shocks of electricity vibrating over the squares of paper. Batman and Darkshade leapt to either side, the crowd scattering behind them, screaming and vying for positions of safety, for a passage out of the ballroom where they could run out of the hotel and perhaps call the police. Shauna and Adam were now pressed into the wall, unable to move for the crowd backing into them, too afraid to cross the miniature battlefield.

Shauna turned her eyes away from the doors and the crowd to focus on the fight, on her friend. Batman was attempting to get to the Joker, but was having issues getting past Harley Quinn and the giant hammer she somehow managed to swing around, despite her size; the physics of the situation said that she should have toppled over, if she had even been able to lift the hammer in the first place. But Batman was nothing if not determined and Shauna knew he'd find a way to knock Harley out of the way to get to his target. No, it was not Batman Shauna was worried about. She was worried about Eleanor, cloaked as Darkshade, and currently involved in a grabbling match with Queen of Spades, attempting to keep those dangerous gloves from getting enough room to throw something.

Darkshade ducked under a haymaker swing and, as she stood up, drove her shoulder into Queen of Spades' stomach, pulling the smaller woman clear off her feet before slamming her back into the floor. Queen of Spades laughed and grabbed Darkshade around the neck, pulling her down to the floor as she strangled the vigilante. Shauna managed to keep herself from calling out to her friend, but she silently willed whoever watched over Gotham to not let Eleanor die, not at the hands of the deranged rabble she was fighting anyway. Her prayers apparently answered, Darkshade dropped all her weight on Queen's arms and slammed one knee into the villain's stomach, hard as she could. Queen of Spades let go and Darkshade rolled away, coughing.

Queen of Spades recovered quicker than she should have however, and ran at Darkshade, laughing hysterically.

"DARKSHADE!" Shauna bellowed.

Eleanor turned the ninety degrees she had to, but it wasn't fast enough. What must have been half a deck of cards shot towards her and smacked into her neck and torso, exploding on contact.

"Shauna," Adam breathed, hauling her back towards the wall, hopefully out of sight of the villains. "They're looking for you. Stay hidden!"

She blinked up at Adam and the nodded and allowed him to shove her under the table. Shauna peeked out from a break in the cloth to continue watching the action, to make sure Eleanor was okay, and that there was no innocent—or uninvolved—blood was being shed.

Batman had broken past Harley Quinn's meagre defences—the red and black nutcase was stumbling towards Queen of Spades, dragging her massive hammer behind her—and had the Joker by the front of his purple suit with one hand and was punching him in the face with the other hand. The Joker was laughing, high pitched and crazy, and was fumbling at his belt for something. Queen of Spades' top hat came flying in from one side, aimed for Batman's head. He realized the danger and blocked the hat, the headgear exploding against his gauntlet. It didn't leave any permanent damage, but the proximity to his head sent Batman stumbling for a few steps, creating an opening for the Joker to jump in with a blunt object of some kind—was it a table leg? Or a pipe?—and start beating Batman, hitting any inch of the grey and black figure he could reach. Harley Quinn and Queen of Spades turned their attention to the crowd again and joined the goons in looking for Shauna; the search had become much more violent.

Across the chaos, Shauna saw the dark shape of Darkshade struggle to her feet, holes blown in her clothes and flesh and the bent of her body indicated that she was injured, at least temporarily; the nanomachines would take care of that soon. Darkshade launched herself at the nearest goon and landed an immense punch to his kidney, the force of which knocked him unconscious. Noticing the collapse of his comrade, another lackey made to attack, followed by the others. Shauna had to gape as Eleanor mowed them down with precise movements of her limbs—clearly she'd been training hard—but there was something that had appeared in her face that scared Shauna as well, something dark and angry and violent.

"Hey pretty-pretty."

Shauna jumped and turned, only to find herself staring at Harley Quinn.

* * *

The table leg broke against Batman's shin, sending a sharp spike of pain up through his leg. Batman suppressed it and focused on the movements needed to disarm and disable the Joker: he grabbed the Joker's wrist and snapped it, drove the opposite elbow into his chest at the base of his neck before grabbing his skinny arm with both hands and flipping the Joker over his shoulder to slam his back into the ground. The Joker laughed, eyes rolling around in his head.

"I think you've gotten tougher, Batsie," he drawled.

An echoing crack sounded and Batman wanted to turn to see what was going on. First, however, he dropped to a crouch and prepared to affix the plastic handcuffs to the Joker's white wrists, all the while thinking something was wrong with this whole situation, but something heavy—presumably Queen of Spades or Harley Quinn—collided with him and tackled him to the ground. The Joker laughed and climbed to his feet and then grabbed the woman and tossed her to one side.

"No one gets the Bat but _me_!"

"Then come and get me," Batman growled.

He shifted his position to kick backwards, boot connecting with something solid. A satisfying woosh of air told Batman the air had been knocked by the Joker's lungs and the vigilante spun to his feet, dropping into a fighting stance. He caught a glimpse of the Joker with his hand raised, green smoke starting to leak from between his fingers, and then he dropped the canister and the smoke began to fill the room with earnest; Batman sucked in a deep breath and held it. Coughs and yelps of fear made it through the smoke, as did the fading echoes of the Joker's horrifying laugh. It only took a moment for the smoke to begin to clear thanks to the large hole in the wall, and Batman was ready.

But there was no one there.

Darkshade was standing about fifteen feet away, looking from side to side, teeth bared in a grimace. She grunted loudly and then headed for the hole at a run, her hand drawing the grappling hook from her belt as she moved. Batman followed, ignoring the cries of blame behind them; the police were on their way and would be able to deal with the situation in the hotel. Batman caught up with Darkshade at the top of the building beside the hotel and found her standing at the opposite edge with her hands on her hips.

"They're gone. They got away somehow," she grumbled.

Batman approached the woman, but stopped a few steps away. "We were unprepared. We underestimated them."

Darkshade turned to look at Batman and she was angry. "While I'm pleased to hear you admit you were unprepared for something, this is getting ridiculous. How do they keep eluding us?"

But Batman didn't answer. He was too busy studying the woman in front of him. She must have fought with Queen of Spades a couple times throughout the brawl, for there were pieces of cards half-embedded in her healed flesh, sticking out from patches of drying blood and thicker bits. Cleaning and re-healing those wounds was going to hurt. A lot. "Darkshade."

"What?"

He stepped closer to her and touched the end of one of the cards. Even a few days ago, her healing abilities were not this rapid—the nanomachines were progressing. She winced at his touch, her hand flying to her face.

"Fuck," she breathed, her cheeks flushing red with anger.

"You need to get back to the cave."

"And what are you going to do?" she snarled.

"Finish patrol and see if I can find the Joker or a sign of where he went."

"Then I'm staying with you. I'm fine."

Batman took that final step that put him so close to Darkshade that they were almost touching and stared down at her, her black eyes glaring back at him. "Go get Alfred and head back to the cave."

She glared a little longer before relenting, turning and firing her grappling line to the roof of the hotel, disappearing quickly and leaving Batman alone on the roof. He turned his attention fully to the job and started out across Gotham's rooftops, pressing the button on his utility belt that would start the Batmobile back in the cave and, through the highly advanced autopilot, bring the car to his position.

* * *

"Ms. Black, despite your invulnerabilities, if you expect to exit the vigilante lifestyle in the same condition you entered it, you are going to have to be a tiny bit more careful."

Eleanor turned an indignant look to the butler, but then sighed and lay back on the table. They had just returned to the cave. Alfred had immediately begun ordering the young woman around and she obeyed, however reluctantly; she continuously grumbled about wanting to be out with Bruce, but the rational part of her brain knew she had to get the cards out of her skin before they became a permanent part of her. First, she had changed out of her vigilante costume and into a pair of plaid pyjama shorts and a tank top so all of the cards could be easily reached. Then, she had had to wipe away all of the dried blood she could so Alfred could see where the cards had entered her skin. Now, she was lying on the examination table and Alfred was examining the embedded projectiles, his glasses perched low on his nose and his light blue eyes regarding what was before him carefully.

"This is not going to be painless."

"I know Alfred. Just do it."

He looked up at Eleanor, and the look on his face could only be described as fatherly. "I suggest you calm down Ms. Black," he said calmly.

Eleanor closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rolling her head to the opposite side from where Alfred was sitting. She heard the clinking of metal tools on the metal plate as Alfred picked up his scalpel; they had already deduced that local anaesthetic didn't last very long in her system, so they'd be doing this without any sort of pain precaution. Eleanor had always had a rather high pain tolerance and the nanomachines had only increased it, but it still wasn't perfect and the methodical slicing she was about to endure was far worse than anything she'd had to face so far. She winced and almost pulled away when the cool metal of the blade touched her skin, but she forced herself to relax and not react.

The pain from the first slice was sharp and immediate, but what hurt more was extracting the card. Her flesh had begun to bond to the paper of the card and she had to fight not to scream as it was pulled from her flesh. After about the fifth card, Eleanor began to go numb. As her head lolled to one side, she realized she was crying. She tried to stop the tears, but she couldn't seem to, so she instead concentrated on what she could see so she could ignore the tugging and cutting and pain. The main computer terminal stretched out to her right so she watched the flickering lights and listened to the whirring for what felt like an hour but was probably only a few moments. Her attention then turned to the bats fluttering around the ceiling of the cave. The sound of their wings and the faint chirping made her smile through the tears.

An undeterminable amount of time later, Alfred moved to the cards embedded in her face. There were three: two in one cheek, near her mouth and one in the other cheek, up closer to her eye. As soon as Alfred's fingers brushed those cards, pain flashed through Eleanor's nervous system with renewed vigour.

She fought not to scream and pull away, to not fight Alfred's hands, to not hurt him.

"Ms. Black," Alfred said, his calm voice breaking through the remainder of the pain.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to kill me," Eleanor breathed as her mind began to reform. Alfred helped her sit up and handed her a glass of water, which she quickly drank down, and then a Kleenex with which she wiped away the tears still clinging to her cheeks. "Thanks."

"You are welcome, although I do apologize for the pain."

"It's okay Alfred. Maybe I'll get Shauna to develop a super-strength anaesthetic."

Alfred chucked and placed a hand lightly on Eleanor's shoulder. "Regardless of my initial feelings about the nanomachines, you seem to have taken to them well and they are doing wonderful things for your healing."

Eleanor looked down at her arms and chest, where most of the cards had landed. The cuts from the scalpel were still bright red and angry and there was blood drying all over her skin, but the cuts were closed and scabbed—a few hours of healing in just a few minutes. She nodded and smiled at Alfred. "I know you didn't agree with the nanomachines, Alfred, but I know I did the right thing. For me, anyway."

"It is your life, Ms. Black, and as much as I did not want to see you become a vigilante like Master Bruce, let alone put yourself through the torture you have with the nanomachines, if you believe this is right for you and you are willing to deal with the consequences, I will do whatever I can to help you survive."

Eleanor smiled up at the older man, a genuine, warm smile. "That means a lot Alfred. Thanks."

He nodded once then, almost as if he was embarrassed by the emotion in Eleanor's voice, he strode from the cave, the bloody cloths from Eleanor's operation in a bag in one hand and the tools to be cleaned and sanitized in the other. With the promise of some tea and something to eat, he disappeared into the mansion proper. Eleanor remained seated on the examination table, letting the cool metal press against her mostly bare legs, and stared down at her arms stretched in front of her, at the cuts to try and see the skin actually knit closed.

Her efforts were interrupted by her cell phone ringing. She slowly and carefully climbed off the table and crossed to the desk where the small black device sat. "Hello?"

_"Eleanor—thank God I got a hold of you! Are you okay? Did you and Bruce get out of that place?"_

"Yes Adam, I'm fine. What's the matter? Are you and Shauna all right?"

_"No, no, no. I'm fine, I'm okay, but I lost Shauna after the Joker attacked."_

Eleanor froze, her breath caught in her throat. "What?"

_"The Joker said he was looking for her, so I tried to stay with her. I tried, I tried... but we got separated somehow and then I couldn't find her! I couldn't find her! He got her, didn't he?" _Adam's voice broke and he sobbed.

"I... When was the last time you saw her?" Eleanor asked. She was trying to remember if she had seen Shauna during the attack—she hadn't. Why hadn't she tried to find Shauna?

_"I don't know... I can't remember!" _He sobbed again, and they were angry tears.

"Adam, just take a deep breath," Eleanor told him, even though she was having trouble finding enough breath for herself. "Take a deep breath and calm down. I'll call the police, let them know she's missing—"

_"Will you tell Batman?"_

Eleanor froze for the second time, until she remembered that Adam only thought she was friends with the vigilante after the whole Doppelganger incident. "I... can tell him, sure," she managed to get out. Her mind was still revolving around the fact that Shauna was missing, that she could be in danger. "You just try and rest Adam. I'll stop by and see you in the morning, okay? Let you know if I find anything out."

_"Okay... okay." _Adam took a deep and shaky breath, seemingly gathering himself, finding control. _"I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm sorry..."_

"Adam, this isn't your fault."

_"I should have watched her closer. I shouldn't have let her out of my sight."_

"Adam, just try and get some rest okay? We'll get her back."

Adam sighed. _"Okay." _

The line clicked dead and Eleanor was left listening to the dial tone for a few moments, her brain stuck on the fact that Shauna was gone, likely in the hands of the Joker. Shauna was Eleanor's best friend and she couldn't help thinking this was because of her, because of Darkshade, and if that was the case, how would she ever apologize? How could she ever expect Shauna to forgive her? When Eleanor could move again, she took the phone and lay back down on the examination table, the cool metal bringing her slightly back into herself, allowing her to better think. She let out a shaky sigh and held the phone in front of her face.

1:58 am.

Provided things were going as she thought they might, Bruce would be back soon. That thought made her give the cave around her a small smile, made her feel a little better, a little calmer. In that moment of calm, she called the police and, though they were reluctant—it hadn't been forty-eight hours yet—made them file a missing person's report for Shauna Messer. When she hung up the phone for the second time that night however, the device fell to the cave floor and she lay there and cried silently.

"What's happened?"

Eleanor focused her attention into the cave and found Batman looking down at her, concern visible behind the cowl. She slowly sat up and turned to face Bruce, tucking her legs underneath her. "Shauna's missing," she whispered.

Bruce pushed the cowl back off his head. He brushed hair back from her face, the light touch of his fingers enough to bring fresh tears to Eleanor's eyes. She leaned into his hand. With the slightest change in pressure, Bruce pulled Eleanor from the table and she nearly fell into his arms, pressing her face into his chest, arms folded between them. He kissed the top of her head and held her there and just let her worry about her friend for a moment; he knew when Eleanor gathered herself together that she would be ready to work, ready to find Shauna.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

War Within a Breath – Rage Against the Machine.

So... I forgot that Adam had a wife in Reflection of His Enemy. SHAME. But I fixed it!

I need to practice fight scenes, I think... Hopefully they were all right. Definitely not my strong suit.

Are stalactites or stalagmites the ones on the ceiling? I can never remember.

DUN-DUN-DUN.

**Next Chapter: Fateful Night; Blood on My Hands. **


	11. Chapter Eleven: Fateful Night

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Eleven: Fateful Night; Blood on My Hands.

* * *

"Puddin', why'd we take her?"

The Joker was staring at the woman huddled in the corner, her auburn hair damp with sweat and her makeup smeared with tears. Her wine-coloured dress was ripped in several places and matched the bruises breaking out along one side of her face and her arms. She was sacred and it made the Joker smile wider, his red lips stretching nearly from ear to ear. "Because Harley," he drawled, "she knows who the Lampshade is."

"I don't know anything!" the woman—was her name Shauna Messer?—shouted.

The Joker laughed, his cackling echoing slightly in the large, closed room; it was one of the only fully intact rooms in the old warehouse and it served well as a torture chamber. "Oh, I think you do."

"Does she know who the Batman is?" Harley asked from her perch on the table against one wall.

"It'd be more fun to get Darkshade's name from her and then torture her—she's the one who's close to the Batman," Queen of Spades chimed in from the door jamb she was leaning against. The green and purple clad villain was splattered with blood from her earlier confrontation with the vigilante in question, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was smiling, almost as wide as the Joker, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice and her eyes. "Hurting her will hurt Batman."

The Joker took several quick steps towards his card-wielding henchwoman and backhanded her across the face, creating a resounding and definitive crack that could only come from flesh on flesh. His face twisted into something dark and dangerous and somehow less scary than the over-the-top joviality that usually graced his pale features. He didn't actually say anything, but the Queen of Spades backed out of the room, muttering something about coming back when it was her turn or when she was needed; a chorus of barks from the hyena pups told the occupants of the room which direction Queen of Spades had headed in and it was only a moment before Harley hopped off the table and followed her co-henchwoman out of the room.

"Have fun Mista J," she sang as she left.

The Joker turned his full attention to the woman huddled in the corner, the Grinch-like smile returning to his lips. He began to laugh as she tried to press herself farther into the corner, like she'd meld into the wall, and the laughter only grew as she began to cry and insist over and over again that she didn't know who Darkshade was.

For many long minutes, the Joker just stood in front of Shauna, smiling and chuckling softly under his breath; the only other sound was the whimpering and quiet sobs coming from the woman and the distant hubbub of the lackeys moving around the building. Shauna's sobbing grew louder the longer the relative silence stretched on. The Joker just waited until she could take it no longer—there would be time for violence later.

"I don't know anything," she gasped finally, her light blue eyes frantic.

"So you keep saying, but you're lying. You know who Darkshade is."

"No! I don't!" Shauna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to rebuild herself, to find some strength, but she couldn't. "I don't know anything," she repeated. Fear was a cold weight in her stomach and it seemed to be working on her nerves, but as long as she wasn't touched, she'd be fine. She could hold out under psychological stress; she started running through programming algorithms in her head, complex equations and anything else she had memorized.

"Trying to remain loyal to her is only going to get you hurt," the Joker said.

Shauna shook her head and stared at the floor—looking at the madman did nothing except make her more afraid.

"What has she done for you to earn this?"

She just kept shaking her head.

"Very well then."

The Joker walked out of the room, but Shauna didn't count herself lucky. She knew he'd be back and then the violence would begin. She couldn't hold up against violence. She'd never been good with physical stress in pain. The young woman tried to mentally recite her memorized knowledge, and when that didn't work she resorted to speaking out loud, but when the Joker returned, a large, shiny black bag in one hand, and a large knife in the other, all the words evaporated from her mind and she was left staring in horror and wondering what could possibly be in that big black bag.

She didn't have to wait long to find out.

The beating started with a rubber chicken—if it hadn't been weighted or whatever and hurt like a sun of a bitch, it would have almost been funny—and escalated quickly. Each new horror the Joker pulled from his bag hurt more and left deeper marks that bled more. Shauna tried to keep from screaming, but she reached a point when crying wasn't enough, when biting her lips until they bled wasn't enough, so she screamed knowing full well that no one would hear her ragged screams, not at this time of night, not in what she assumed was a remote area of Gotham.

Through it all, while the Joker repeatedly asked her who Darkshade was, Shauna stared at the wall beyond the Joker, at the grime caking the wall, at the slow drip of water leaking in from the ceiling. She thought of Eleanor and Bruce and their secrets, thought of what it would mean if she spilled the beans and knew she couldn't do it. There was no way she could tell the Joker who Darkshade was, who Batman was. She imagined erecting steel walls around the information in her mind, walls she turned into a safe and locked as tightly as she could. She would not tell the Joker. She would not tell him anything. She couldn't. She couldn't betray the trust Eleanor had placed in her. Shauna cried harder at the thought of losing Eleanor as a friend and at the Joker getting a hold of her and hurting her just as he was Shauna.

When the Joker grabbed Shauna's wrist and lifted her half off the ground, she whimpered and sobbed, but the tears were all gone, her eyes were dry. The Joker's laugh bounced around in Shauna's head, off the safe containing the information and the unthinkable happened: the metal started to chip. Shauna whimpered louder. She coughed with dry heaves, her head rolling back and her eyes going back in her head; points of light started to dance around Shauna's vision and she knew she was near to passing out. She didn't want that to happen for fear of what the Joker would do to her while she was unconscious, or what he would do to bring her back into the world of the waking. Distantly, she heard the Joker asking his question again.

Her lips moved soundlessly, against the urging in Shauna's mind.

She was trying to answer.

The Joker's strong hand wrapped around Shauna's neck, long fingers digging in, nearly drawing blood, and hauled her up, impossible strength keeping her suspended a couple inches off the floor. "What did you say?"

Shauna tried to keep her mouth shut. Fresh tears leaked from the corners of her eyes almost as if the Joker was squeezing them from her, and then he dropped her on the ground, her head cracking against the cement of the wall behind her. Shauna's mouth moved again, a tiny sound escaping from her lips. She tried to tell her body to stop, to block up the information again, but the knowledge was leaking from a chip in the safe, threatening to spew from her lips and nothing, not even her superior brain that had helped her graduate near the top of her class, could stop it.

"Eleanor..." she breathed, voice hoarse.

The Joker moved to stand over her, hands on his hips, the white gloves splattered with blood just like the white of his skin. "Who?" he asked, drawing out the last syllable and cocking his head to one side for dramatic effect as he did so.

Shauna noticed as she looked up at the Joker that his green hair was dishevelled from its previous, seemingly impossible to move style, and it was speckled with blood. Everything was. He looked like a gore-splattered nightmare, but the permanent smile made it somehow funny; Shauna actually breathed a laugh. This was a bizarre situation, wasn't it? "Eleanor..." she breathed. "Eleanor Black." As soon as the name was out of her lips, Shauna broke down again, new emotion bringing new tears, and she collapsed against the ground, sobbing.

"Oh Queeny," the Joker called, cupping a hand around one side of his mouth and rising to his tiptoes.

The top-hatted villain appeared in the room, Harley skipping in behind her. "Yes?"

"Have some fun with our guest here. I've got someone to find."

Queen of Spades turned to face Shauna, her deformed mouth twisting even farther towards insanity. "Will do boss man." As the Joker left, the green-haired woman produced a metal rod, about two and a half feet long and smacked it against the open palm of her other hand. "We _are _going to have some fun, aren't we Squidgy?"

Shauna had time to wonder where the hell the nickname had come from before the kinetically-charged "fun" began.

* * *

The ceiling of Wayne Manor's kitchen was about twelve feet high, like the rest of the ceilings in the massive house, but it was plain, just a series of wooden planks darkened with time and probably a stain of one kind or another. The edges of a water stain could be seen in the corner of the door that lead out to the backyard and above the light, the wood had faded slightly. Currently, the kitchen was in darkness, except for faint moonlight trickling in through the window above the sink, as its only occupant didn't need light to see in the dark anymore, and the simple furniture that populated the room cast thick shadows around, adding to the atmosphere.

Eleanor wondered, as she lay on the floor, looking up, why the builders had left the kitchen so plain when there were moments of ornate gothic architecture all over the rest of the building, especially the exterior, but the answer came to her almost as soon as she had thought the question: the Waynes who had built the house probably wouldn't have spent a lot of time in the kitchen—that was for servants, and servants didn't need to look at pretty walls. As it was, Eleanor liked the kitchen and its plainness. She liked that the window, semi-covered by ivy, looked out over the expansive back gardens and that it felt so removed from the rest of the house. It was a warm and comfortable room and unlike many of the other rooms, it actually felt lived in. Eleanor spent a lot of time there, even when she wasn't eating.

She had never taken in the room from a prone position on the floor though. It was interesting, but it was far from her mind at the moment.

The newest resident of Wayne Manor had wandered down to the kitchen at around five in the morning, after only two hours of fitful sleep and lay on the floor to let her mind wander freely, to think about Shauna and maybe find a solution without waking Bruce. Eleanor had a tendency to mutter out loud when she was thinking. She had also intended to eat something, but for the first time since she had been injected with the nanomachines, she didn't have an appetite.

Eleanor was too worried about Shauna, about what the Joker and company were doing to her to get the information they wanted—and what other information could they want than the identity of Batman and/or Darkshade? Shauna's capture was Eleanor's fault. She should have never gone back to Shauna's house; she should never have gone inside in the first place... There were a thousand things she could have differently to keep Shauna from getting involved in the vigilante world. She was now a target and she always would be if Eleanor kept in touch with her. But could she just not see Shauna anymore? No. But could she stand by and let Shauna live out her life as a target? No.

"Fuck," Eleanor breathed, banging her head slightly against the floor.

There was a whine from the doorway and then Blaze was lying on the floor beside her, his head on her stomach. Eleanor reached down and tangled her fingers in the fur behind Blaze's ears, the warmth from her canine companion making her feel marginally better. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears and she wanted to cry and sob and scream, but she didn't want to wake Alfred or Bruce, both of whom were extraordinarily light sleepers. Blaze whined again and pressed his bulk closer to his owner's side, digging his nose into her stomach, trying to get as close as possible. Eleanor felt bad that she hadn't been able to spend as much time with Blaze as she once had, especially since he was getting up there in years and losing his youthful energy.

Unwarranted, Eleanor sniffed and felt the tears begin to pool around her eyes and slide down her cheeks. "God damn it," she breathed, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. Blaze whined again and Eleanor tightened her fingers in his thick fur, laughing bitterly to herself.

Or so she thought.

Bruce's face appeared above her, slight hints of concern lining his face. It was a lot of emotion to see from the man behind the mask of Batman, and it made Eleanor smile just a tiny bit to know that he cared. She sobbed loudly and then covered her mouth with her hand; she hadn't cried this hard in a long time, not since after the Doppelganger incident, when she'd been in the hospital and high on pain medication. Bruce sat down on the floor beside her head, brushing some hair from her face and taking her hand when she reached for his.

"We'll find her," he said.

"What if it's too late?"

Bruce helped Eleanor to sit up and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close even though she was pressed as close as she could get without sitting in his lap. "It's not too late. We _will _find her."

Eleanor nodded against Bruce's chest, sighing slightly when he settled his chin on the top of her head. "I know you will." She sniffed, stopping the tears and cuddled against him. Blaze moved so he was curled in front of them with his head up on Eleanor's knee. "I'm sorry I woke you up," she said.

"You didn't."

Eleanor looked across the room at the digital numbers on the stove. "Oh, I guess it was time to get up. Are we going into the office today?" she asked as Bruce helped her stand.

He gave her a quick hug before turning and heading along the hallway and saying, "I am, but you don't have to come if you're not up for it. There's nothing crucial to be done at Wayne Enterprises today."

"I'll come. I want to see Adam." She forced a smile when Bruce looked at her over his shoulder. "I want to make sure he's okay. He sounded so... upset and lost when he called me. Besides," she added, "I'm not going to look like a very good assistant if I'm absent all the time 'running errands.'" Bruce turned around at the top of the wide staircase and Eleanor smiled at him for real, her eyes and nose still red from the tears, but the expression was bright; the young billionaire had always had that effect on her.

"We'll head out around nine."

"Isn't that a little early for you to grace the office with your presence?" Eleanor asked, moving closer to Bruce.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Bruce's mouth as he inclined his head, moving it as she approached. She stopped when there was less than an inch of space between them and tilted her head up, a matching smirk on her lips. "I'm sure no one will notice," he said quietly. He raised one hand to her cheek, fingertips sliding gently along her skin back to her earth, brushing stray strands of hair back. "I want to talk to Lucius before his meetings."

Eleanor nodded, leaning into his fingers slightly. "Probably a good plan then."

Bruce closed the distance and kissed Eleanor, quick but thorough. When he pulled back, Eleanor smiled and then turned and walked down the stairs, heading back towards the kitchen.

Alfred was already there, whisking eggs in a bowl.

"How on Earth do you do that?" she asked, sitting on one of the stools at the island.

"What Ms. Black?"

"Get up, get dressed and start making breakfast without anyone else noticing? And start making exactly what I was going to make for breakfast."

"Practice."

Eleanor smiled. Her and Alfred chatted while he prepared breakfast for her, himself and Bruce. When she was finished eating and had put the dishes in the dishwasher, Alfred took Bruce's food up to him on a tray and Eleanor made for her room to get ready for a day at the office. She showered, brushed her teeth and her hair before pulling it back into a low bun. Eleanor chose a black pantsuit with blue pinstripes and pulled on a pair of blue high heels. She grabbed her purse and threw everything she'd need in it and made sure she could find her phone quickly before she headed out into the hallway where, just as she had expected she would, she found Bruce, dressed to the nines in a charcoal grey suit with a white shirt and shining black shoes.

They reached the office half an hour later and found the building already in full swing. Eleanor felt a little out of place; she hadn't been to the office in a while and it was a little overwhelming. Sure, she could chase villains over rooftops and bad guys through alleyways, but standing in a marble lobby with men and women in suits buzzing about, now that was intimidating. Taking a deep breath, Eleanor following Bruce to the elevator, where he headed up to the boss' office and she headed down to the floor where Adam and, usually Shauna, sat secluded among the forgotten, dismissed and abandoned projects of Wayne Enterprises.

She made it half a dozen steps into the room before Adam came running out to meet her, his bushy hair a bigger mess than usual and dark circles under his eyes. "Eleanor," he gasped in relief right before he hugged her.

Eleanor wrapped his arms around him in return, her face pressed into his shoulder. "Hi Adam."

"I'm so happy to see you, Ellie. You have no idea how crazy I've been down here all by myself."

"I can imagine, Adam. I'm so sorry she got taken." Eleanor gave Adam a sympathetic smile as she pulled back from the embrace and she realized then that his eyes were rimmed with red. "Oh Adam. It's not your fault she was taken."

"I should have been able to protect, Ellie."

"What? And get yourself killed? Shauna would have been pissed at you for that," she said with a small laugh.

Adam ran both his hands back through his hair, also chuckling a bit. "Yeah, she would have." He sighed heavily. "Eleanor, did you tell Batman about this?"

"I gave him a message. He knows about it. I'm sure he'll do what he can to find her. I know he will," she added hastily, seeing the look that crossed through Adam's eyes. "But I'm not going to promise anything, all right?"

"How do you give him a message?"

Eleanor levelled a look at Adam. "I am not at liberty to divulge that information." Adam just smiled and headed back to his large desk in the back corner, the only area visible in a pool of darkness. "Why don't you turn on some lights down here? It might make it more... cheery." She took the look from her engineer friend with a one-shouldered shrug and said, "Whatever you want; it's your lab."

"What got you into the office today?" Adam asked as he sat down.

Eleanor sat in Shauna's chair and stared at the dark computer screen, her reflection staring back at her. All the marks from Queen of Spades' cards were gone, but Eleanor could still feel the projections as if the paper was still embedded in her skin. She shrugged again and resisted the urge to run her fingers back through her hair; it would ruin her business-appropriate look. "I wanted to make sure you were doing all right and I need to speak to Lucius."

"I'm fine."

"I know Adam, but you sounded so freaked out on the phone..." Eleanor fixed her blue eyes on the man across the space. "I was worried about you."

"I want Shauna back, Eleanor. She's... my friend."

"I know that Adam, and I want her back too."

Adam sighed heavily and put his head in his hands, his fingers clutching at his hair until his nails turned white. "Ellie... I think I may have feelings for Shauna."

Eleanor blinked and sat up straight in the chair, staring across at Adam, her eyes wide. "What? Are you..." Eleanor took a deep breath. "Adam, why didn't you tell me this? And are you sure it isn't just because she's gone?" she asked warily, turning the ring on her left thumb as she did so.

"Yes I'm sure."

Eleanor got to her feet and crossed the room to stand in front of Adam and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and there were unshed tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. "Batman will get her back, Adam."

"How can you be so sure?"

For the briefest moment, Eleanor almost told Adam why she was so sure, but it only lasted a second. The price for telling the truth was too high just to reassure her friend. But she knew they'd have to find Shauna now. If they didn't find her, Eleanor would have a hard time living with herself. _Maybe this vigilante thing is too demanding. Maybe I was wrong in forcing this so much... No. It's too late to worry about that now, Eleanor, _she told herself, mentally imitating Bruce's voice. _You and Bruce will find Shauna, don't worry. Just reassure Adam. _Eleanor sighed and gave her friend a small smile. "I just am, Adam. But right now, I've got to get upstairs and talk to Lucius. I'll be back down after. I'm having an early lunch with Lucius

Adam nodded and turned back to his computer. Eleanor hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek before turning and heading back to the elevator. Lucius had a meeting at noon and it was ten now. The elevator ride up was long and, since the day had already begun, lonely. The upper floors of Wayne Enterprises were flooded with the morning light, but it wasn't overwhelming, thanks to the tint on the glass. Eleanor crossed the familiar path to Lucius' office and let herself in without knocking; there was nothing they could be discussing that she wouldn't be cleared to hear. Both men looked up at her as she entered.

"Good morning Eleanor," Lucius said as she settled into the empty chair beside Bruce.

"Morning Lucius. Looking forward to your meetings today?"

"Probably more than Mister Wayne," he answered with a smile.

"Speaking of which," Bruce said, flashing a wide smile and rising from his chair, "I'd better get to my office." All Eleanor had to do was raise an eyebrow and Bruce continued. "A new company based in Germany has requested a meeting with the owner of the company."

Eleanor laughed. "I wonder if they know they're not going to get very far with the owner of the company."

Bruce gave another brilliant smile and then left Lucius' office.

"Have you and Bruce set any measures in place to track Shauna before night falls?" he asked as soon as the door closed behind Bruce.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow again, but then she sighed and rubbed the palms over her face. "Bruce tried, but he lost the Joker on the stoplight surveillance footage near Crime Alley, right around where the stoplight cameras stop. The city _really _needs to get on that."

"Maybe Wayne Enterprises could make a donation," Lucius suggested with a smile.

"Maybe." Eleanor settled farther into chair, crossing her legs and accepting the mug of coffee Lucius handed her. "Anyways, he tried to find them again, but he couldn't and there were no reports of anyone seeing the Joker. Apparently the Joker can be sneaky when he wants to be... unless he didn't leave anyone who saw him alive, which I would also believe." Eleanor took a long drink from the mug. "I was lying on the table recovering. Otherwise I would have helped him look. We need to find Shauna, Lucius. She should never have been taken."

"You feel responsible for her capture."

Eleanor nodded and took another long drink. "It's my fault. It's my interaction with her that led the Joker to her. She would never have been taken if they hadn't seen my talking to her as Darkshade."

"Perhaps." Lucius folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "Eleanor, why are you doing this?"

"I thought you weren't going to try and talk me out of it anymore."

"I'm not, but I am curious what exactly drove you to vigilantism."

"If I had a concrete answer to give you Lucius, I would give it," she answered with a sigh. The truth was, Eleanor knew part of the reason, but she didn't feel comfortable telling Lucius she had wanted to become a vigilante to be closer to Bruce.

* * *

Darkshade was crouched on the head of a large gargoyle, her arms wrapped around her folded legs and her chin on her knees. Batman was standing on the roof of the old building beside her. The sun was setting, the sky flaring a brilliant orange behind them and glinting off the glass windows of the skyscrapers around them. A light breeze was blowing Darkshade's hair and coat out behind her and doing the same to Batman's cape, but it was also blowing dark, boiling storm clouds towards the city.

"There's a storm coming," she said quietly. She didn't need a reply to know Batman had heard her. "Have you heard anything that might be about Shauna?"

"You could turn your headset on."

"I can't focus as it is, Batman. "

"You have a job."

Darkshade huffed and pressed the pressure-sensitive combination in her left glove that turned her concealed headset on. The police band crackled to life in her left ear. At first it was nothing interesting, just a lot of chatter, but then she heard something that nearly made her fall from the gargoyle.

_"We have a report of a disturbance at 1213 Fruitridge Line."_

Batman grabbed Darkshade's arm and pulled her into him at the same time he fired a line and repelled down the side of the building to where the Batmobile was waiting.

_"Neighbours phoned in after hearing gunshots and screams. Woman claims she saw the Joker." _

Darkshade stifled a scream as she disengaged from Batman and climbed into the passenger seat of the tank-like vehicle. The car roared to life and Batman took off for the North West corner of the city and the bridge that would take them across the river to where the Black family mansion was located. Darkshade balled her hands into fists and resisted the urge to punch the dashboard or the door or anything she could reach; she forced herself not to cry, not to scream or yell or anything. They were heading for her parents' house as fast as they could go and it wasn't like her parents were weak...

How had the Joker known to target them?

There was no reason to except that they were _her _parents and they were too far outside of the city for the attack to be random chance.

"Shauna."

Batman turned his head to look at her. "What?"

"Shauna had to have told the Joker who I am; that's the only reason he'd be attacking my parents." Rage was boiling in her stomach, flooding through her veins and clouding her mind. How could Shauna have revealed her identity? They were friends! Best friends! "How could she have told him?" she barked through clenched teeth.

"Eleanor," Batman snapped. "Calm down."

She tossed her head back against the seat, closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He wasn't trying to calm her down because he was afraid of her reaction when they got to the house or when she met Shauna again—he was afraid of the nanomachines turning her into whatever Ashlynn had become. Her rage had fuelled the mutations and there was no reason to believe they wouldn't do the same to Eleanor. When she was relatively calmed, she opened her black eyes and looked across the vehicle at Batman.

"He knows who I am. Maybe—"

"We're not making any assumptions. Don't say anything."

Eleanor scoffed. "Of course I won't. Can't you go any faster?"

The vigilantes reached the large Tudor-style home in five minutes after her question and she was out of the vehicle almost before it had come to a stop. She ran to the house and leapt over the fallen door. There was a scream—Naomi's—and Darkshade turned and ran towards the living room, narrowly avoiding Harley Quinn and her hyenas as they ran past her in the opposite direction, the henchwoman and her pets sparing Darkshade no extra attention. She tackled Batman before he could make it through the door, but Darkshade couldn't stop. She had to get to her parents.

She leapt over an overturned couch and landed on the hardwood in a fighting stance. Queen of Spades was standing to her right, cards in hand and poised to throw; Liam was lying on his side on the floor, curled around her feet. The Joker was standing directly in front of Darkshade, one hand holding Naomi up by her red hair and the other holding a knife to her throat.

"I know who you are..." the Joker said in a sing-song voice.

"Let her go."

The Joker raised his knife to Naomi's cheek and drew it along her cheek, headed for the corner of her lips. Naomi's mouth opened and her breath quickened, but she didn't scream; by the look of the rest of her, she'd already screamed her share. "Who is Batman?" the Joker asked, his voice impossibly calm.

"I don't know," Darkshade gasped, her eyes locked on her mother's.

"Don't lie. It won't be good for your sweet mother if you lied."

Darkshade took a step towards the Joker. The criminal gestured and three playing cards struck her face and shoulder. She winced and stopped.

"Baby, don't do—"

The Joker slapped Naomi and she collapsed to the floor with a moan. Ignoring the possibility of more playing cards embedded in her body, she launched herself across the room and tackled the Joker to the ground, his wiry frame hitting the floor hard. He laughed and she punched him in the face. She landed three solid punches before Queen of Spades wrapped an arm around Darkshade's neck and hauled her backwards across the living room. Darkshade made her body go dead, the extra weight stopping Queen of Spades and making her stumble. The vigilante leapt to her feet and grabbed her opponent's wrist before she could throw something else and pulled forward, sending the Joker's henchwomen tumbling forward into the ground. She had enough time to register the Joker moving towards her and attempt to block the knife coming towards her face, but she didn't catch his other first until it connected with her stomach.

"Who-is-Batman?" he asked, punctuating each word with a punch.

Darkshade brought her knee up into the Joker's crotch and used the same leg to kick him in the head. "I don't know who he is and even if I did, do you think I'd tell you?" she yelled. She executed a back-kick that took the recovering Queen of Spades in the chest and sent her flying backwards into the wall.

"You might if you cared about your mother here."

Darkshade turned back and found the criminal with Naomi hauled to her feet again, a different knife at her throat.

Before she could react further, the window broke and a hyena flew through it, followed by a somewhat bloody and beat Batman. He took the briefest second to take stock of the room. The Joker took that second to smile.

"Well, if no one is going to tell me who is behind that pointy-eared cowl..."

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Fateful Night – Hans Zimmer & James Newton Howard, Batman Begins Expanded Score.

Blood on My Hands – Hans Zimmer & James Newton Howard, The Dark Knight Special Edition Soundtrack.

Holy Batman soundtracks, er... Batman!

The pressure-sensitive glove thing came from one of my Batman Begins movie guides. I can't remember which one, but I love the idea of the technology, no I'm using it.

I had to steal it Shauna. Had to.

So, I've had some second thoughts about the plot, but I've decided to make the one I originally thought of work.

And, I've decided to reverse the years a little more, since these stories are supposed to take place during the early years of Batman's work. Eleanor is now twenty-five and Bruce is twenty-seven. It's only three years difference, but it's enough. It doesn't really change anything.

Anyways, enjoy.

**Next Chapter: City of Delusion; So Cold. **


	12. Chapter Twelve: City of Delusion

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Twelve: City of Delusion; So Cold.

* * *

Screaming red blood, gaping wound, the glint of steel.

Blood... there was so much blood, _so much_ blood.

How was that possible? How could the human body contain that much blood? And how could it flow so fast? How could it cover so much of the floor? How could it be so _red_?

Time seemed to slow in that minute and Darkshade had all the time in the world to stand there and watch. Watch her mother fall to the floor in a strangely graceful arc, landing with a wet smack in the pool of arterial blood that had formed beneath her, her mouth moving silently like she was trying to talk or get a breath of air; the gash across her throat was a grotesque imitation of her mouth, of those lips that had more often than not been smiling. The Joker laughed, each beat of noise pounding against Darkshade's eardrums and transforming her disbelief into white-hot rage.

He could not take her mother from her.

A high-pitched scream filled the room on the heels of the thought and it took Darkshade a moment to realize the sound was coming from her. Without putting much thought into the motion, she transformed that scream into a battle cry and lunged across the space between her and the Joker, hands out for his throat. The world slammed back into real time as something slammed into her stomach, preventing her forward motion. Darkshade screamed in frustration, still grabbing for the Joker. At first, she couldn't figure out why she wasn't moving any farther, but slowly the razor teeth digging into one ankle and the iron grip around her waist and neck became apparent. But they didn't matter. Darkshade knew they were there, but they were a distant annoyance. The pile of people and one hyena fell forward, Harley Quinn straddling Darkshade's back and pinning her to the floor. Harley wiggled her fingers into Darkshade's hair and grabbed a good handful, using it as a handle to pull her head back and smash it hard into the floor repeatedly as she shouted things Darkshade couldn't quite hear.

The vigilante barely felt her nose break, her cheek crack as her face smacked into the hardwood; she didn't hear anything being said around her clearly and her struggles were only half-hearted. Her black eyes were all for the Joker, laughing manically even as Batman launched the counter attack Darkshade hadn't been able to. Dimly, she heard the wail of sirens, but she paid them no mind, still concentrating on the Joker, who was rapidly becoming nothing but a green and purple blur to her eyes. The taste of blood filled her mouth and the colours faded from her vision and she felt her eyes begin to swell shut.

As Batman tossed the other hyena into the Joker and the pair tumbled through the window behind them, blackness overtook Darkshade's vision and she slipped slowly into oblivion, unconsciousness giving no heed to her struggles.

Bruce was there to catch her when she awoke in a panic several hours later, cheeks tight with dried tears and a faint metallic taste still lingering in her mouth. Eleanor pulled herself free of the blankets on her bed and collapsed into Bruce's arms as a dry sob racked her body and she clung to him, to his solid form and his warmth, savouring that he was still there, whole and real when nothing else seemed to be. Her eyes were still a little swollen and there was a numbness in her face that told her she wasn't completely healed, but all she really cared about at that moment was holding on to Bruce; when a fine trembling spread through her body, she held on tighter.

"My mother?" she asked after a moment. Her voice was empty and barely audible.

Part of Bruce was glad she wasn't looking at him in that moment. He didn't want to see the pain in her eyes. Bruce ran a hand over her hair as he shifted his arms and held her closer. "I'm sorry Ellie," he said, with his lips pressed to the top of her head. She gave a small nod, and turned her face fully against Bruce's chest. Eleanor sobbed once against his chest, her hands convulsing on his shirt. "I'm sorry."

She sobbed once again as she pushed herself back enough to look up at Bruce and shook her head, like she was shaking all the bad thoughts out. Evidently it worked, because when she met Bruce's gaze, her cobalt eyes were serious. "How did we get away?"

The man behind the mask of Batman gave a small sigh, although the focus on work was not unexpected. "The police arrived right after you passed out and tried to get inside. Gordon sent them after the Joker, Harley Quinn and the Queen of Spades and let me out with you. The Joker was already gone by the time they got out there."

"Why didn't _you_ got after him?"

"I wasn't going to leave you there," he said. "I don't know how long the nanomachines would have kept your appearance with you unconscious."

She scrunched up her face—the first sign of her usual self. It didn't last long. "What happened to my Dad?"

"He was just knocked out with superficial injuries. I went to see him at the hospital this morning; they kept him overnight for observation," Bruce added quickly so she didn't get the wrong idea of her father's condition. "Liam was physically fine when I saw him."

Eleanor gave a bitter bark of a laugh, her hands balling into fists as she sat back on the bed, pulling away from her last bit of contact with Bruce. "Physically fine." She wiped at her cheeks angrily as tears started falling. There were no sobs, just an angry look in her eyes and a snarl on her lips. She seemed to be looking at something or someone far away. "How is this possible?" she asked, the question directed at no one in the room. "How is this fucking possible?" An edge of laughter worked its way into her voice as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "She can't be... She can't be dead! She can't, she can't, she can't... It doesn't make sense... She's not gone; she's not..."

"Ellie..."

She batted at Bruce's hand as he reached out to touch her. "SHE'S NOT DEAD!" Eleanor climbed off the bed and pushed her hair out of her face, her eyes gone wide and every ounce of focus she'd somehow held onto gone to the panic that had gripped her when she had awoken. "She can't be dead..." She wiped at her cheeks and looked up at Bruce, her body shaking again. "She can't be... Can she?"

Bruce, a man who wasn't shaken by much, was struck by the vulnerability in those two words.

* * *

For the next few days, Eleanor remained in a kind of trance, moving through her days without really being there. She had gone from anger and disbelief to passive acceptance and it wasn't a comforting state. Her only concern seemed to be getting from one day to the next and getting her father there as well. Her time was divided between Wayne Manor and her parents' home, and her attention was divided only between worry about Liam and trying to find Shauna; as time ticked by without any word from her engineer friend, Eleanor's depression just kept growing.

She barely talked and she barely ate, but she ignored all attempts to talk about the situation. In fact, aside from her initial breakdown, she didn't talk about Naomi's murder at all. Even when she was helping Liam with the arrangements, she remained objective and never referred to Naomi as her mother or by name. Everyone was worried about her, but she gave no indication that she noticed or cared.

The attitude continued into the nights when she was Darkshade and when she was supposed to be concerned with the wellbeing of others. Turned in on herself as was, she couldn't do her job. She couldn't be a vigilante. Bruce told her so, and the next night she didn't return to the mansion, she didn't appear in the Cave. Even later, when Bruce told her he'd run into Catwoman, she didn't show any sort of reaction. Every attempt to talk to her was either met with one-word answers or silence and she'd just walk away at random moments and disappear. Alfred couldn't even talk to her and he had a history of getting her to talk or do things when no one else could.

The night before Naomi's funeral, Eleanor was in her room at Wayne Manor, packing up a bag of stuff to go stay with her father that night. Bruce stood in the doorframe, watching her; her movements were almost robotic.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice still as empty sounding as it had been all week.

He didn't say anything, just walked closer to her. He stopped when he was only a couple inches away and remained silent for a few more moments as she packed. If he had learned anything about Eleanor, it was to let her go through things alone until she asked for help or desperately needed it. "Did you still want me to come tomorrow?" he asked, deciding this time the second option applied more than the first.

Eleanor turned and looked at him, and there was a flash of something in her cobalt eyes, some remnant of her usual self, and when she spoke, she sounded like Eleanor, not like the automaton that had taken her place. "Of course I still want you to come. I need you to come." She looked at him for a moment longer before moving herself in front of him and holding herself close to him. He returned the embrace, inwardly surprised at the sudden change in attitude. "I'm sorry," she finally said.

"You don't have to apologize."

"Maybe not about my mood, but I am sorry for making you, for making everyone worry."

Bruce rewarded her with a small smile. "That I will accept an apology for."

She snuggled her head into his chest. "Have you heard anything about Shauna?" she asked, voice tentative.

"Not yet, but I'm still looking."

"Do you think she's still alive?"

"Yes."

When she looked up at him, the vulnerability was very visible again. Her hands flexed against his back where she was holding onto him. "Why?" she asked, voice desperate.

Bruce was glad he had an answer to give her. "Because if Shauna was dead, the Joker wouldn't keep her hidden away."

Eleanor seemed to think about that for a moment, her face still wary. After a moment, she seemed to agree and went back to pressing her face into Bruce's chest. "That's true…" She sighed and backed away from Bruce. "I had better get over to my Dad's," she said. "He'll be wondering where I am." She pulled on a sweater and slung her bag over her shoulder, her keys in one hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The day dawned gray and wet; stereotypical for a funeral, but strangely welcome. Liam wasn't sure he could have handled the day if it had been sunny, if the world had looked cheery when he was so broken, so upset. Besides, Naomi had always liked the rain. She said it made everything like new again.

Liam sighed and put his forehead against the window of their bedroom. He hadn't slept in their bed all week; it still smelled like Naomi and he could still feel her lying beside him, still feel her there. He'd slept in one of the guest bedrooms, one that Naomi had never gone in, because to be around anything that reminded him of her was too painful. It was too hard. If Eleanor hadn't been there to help him, Liam was pretty sure he would have gone mad with missing his wife. With hating the Joker for taking her. For whom else could it have been?

The Joker and his henchwomen, one of them with pet hyenas, had burst into their home, knocking out their butler and bringing chaos in their wake as they swept through the house to the living room in the back. Liam had tried to defend himself, his wife, his house, as had Naomi, but there was no way they could have stood up against three of Gotham's deranged villains. He had almost blamed Batman for not coming to the rescue, but that was illogical. Liam knew that one man couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard he tried, and Liam also knew that Batman did try. The masked vigilante had saved his daughter, so Liam could not be mad at him; Eleanor's unwavering faith must have been rubbing off on him.

The adopted daughter in question knocked on the door at that minute and Liam turned to face her, the warmth in her face bringing a smile to his face. For almost a week, she'd been robotic, letting her grief consume her completely. Now she was smiling. She was herself, or close to it again.

"I made some pancakes if you want some," she said.

Liam nodded. "Pancakes sound great."

The pair proceeded down into the kitchen, where Eleanor had indeed made pancakes. Liam had given the house staff some time off until after the funeral and the morose event was being catered. Father and daughter ate in relative silence and then went upstairs to dress and prepare for the day ahead. The family and friends would be arriving in about an hour, at ten, and the service would be at eleven. Liam knew he would be on autopilot most of the day and just the thought of it made him tired, made him want to lay down and go back to sleep, but he couldn't leave Eleanor to deal with everything on her own, he wouldn't do that to her, and he wouldn't let Naomi's family think he'd given up.

So he pulled on his freshly dry-cleaned black suit, tied his black silk tie and made sure his shoes weren't scuffed. He brushed his hair back from his face the way Naomi had liked it and then ventured out into the hall where Eleanor was standing, staring down the staircase at the hall beneath. She was wearing a knee-length, sleeveless black dress and low black high heels that would be suitable for walking through the grass back to the family plot. Her hair was up and couldn't hide the melancholy on her face.

"You might want to bring a sweater. It's a little chilly."

Eleanor smiled and raised her arm, showing Liam the cropped black sweater Naomi had been so fond of. "I thought of that. Actually, I thought of Mom telling me that."

Liam returned the sad smile and drew his daughter's head towards him so he could place a light kiss on her temple. "Shall we head downstairs?"

"Are you ready?" Eleanor asked, and she wasn't talking about his clothes or his hair.

"As ready as I could ever be."

"Me too." Eleanor squeezed her Dad's hand quickly before heading downstairs, one hand on the railing.

Adam was the first to arrive. He hugged Eleanor tightly and for a long time, both to offer sympathy and to whisper a question in Eleanor's ear about Shauna. Liam only heard because he was still standing close by at the time, and he gave Adam his sincerest wish that they found Shauna soon, to which Adam apologized for drawing attention away from Naomi.

"Nonsense Adam," Liam said as Eleanor went off to greet other guests. "Naomi and I were and are both very fond of Shauna and want her returned safely."

"Thank you Mr. Black."

For almost an hour, Liam wandered from person to person, greeting and accepting apologizes, offers of sympathy and plates of food. He had never understood why people brought food to funerals, but he didn't turn anything away and the caters, who had appeared to start setting up, usually appeared to whisk away the casserole or whatever dish was being offered and take it to the dining room where they were setting up the food for later. When it was time, he, Eleanor and Bruce, who had appeared about half an hour before, led the way across the back lawn to where the family plot was located and where the church personnel had been preparing the ceremony.

The actual burial passed in kind of a blur. It started to rain and the umbrellas popped up like bizarre black flowers. Eleanor cried the whole time and when she hugged Liam, he began to cry as well. The sobs and tears of the others went unnoticed by the pair, as did the words of the priest. Liam's and Eleanor's eyes were all for the polished mahogany coffin in front of them and the six-foot hole beneath it.

The world reappeared in full when the priest stopped talking and invited people to come forward and offer last words.

Eleanor crouched beside the coffin and placed her hand on the shining, wet wood. "Goodbye Mommy," she whispered. And if Liam hadn't been standing right behind her, he wouldn't have heard her lean in closer and whisper, "I'm so sorry I couldn't stop him."

Briefly, he wondered what she meant by that, but the thought passed when he turned his attention to his wife's final resting place.

* * *

"This was my fifth birthday," Eleanor said, pointing to a picture of her and Naomi in the kitchen. Eleanor had chocolate icing all over her face and Naomi was looking down at the ruined cake.

"Your mother was not happy about that," Liam remembered.

"I remember that." Bruce smiled when Eleanor and Liam looked at him. "I remember wondering why there were no words on the cake when there were before."

Eleanor laughed; a bright sound amongst the relative silence in the dining room. She quieted the noise and pressed her face into Bruce's shoulder so the other guests would stop looking at her. He placed a hand on the back of her head and laughed with her. "She told me to taste the icing if I wanted to," she finally managed. "That it was my birthday and no one would notice if some was missing."

Liam pulled the photo album out of Eleanor's lap and flipped through a few more pages before stopping at two pages from years later, when Eleanor was graduating high school. The first image was of Eleanor on stage, in her gown and cap, receiving her diploma from her favourite teacher. The next one was of her in a group-hug with her friends, and the one after was of her with Naomi and Liam, taken by one of the other parents. The one that made the three people on the couch smile and laugh was the next one, which Liam had taken of Naomi. The proud mother was on her feet, cheering while the surrounding parents cast shocked looks up at the supposed high-class woman of Gotham City.

"That's my favourite picture of your mother," Liam said, a wistful look taking over his face. Tears blossomed in the corners of his eyes, but he was still smiling.

"Mine too." Eleanor leaned across the couch and wrapped her arms around her father.

He returned the embrace, sniffling a little bit. "I'm going to go for a walk," he informed Eleanor and Bruce after a moment. "Check on the dogs." He smiled at his daughter and at Bruce, before asking to talk to the billionaire privately for a moment. When the men were far enough back from the couch so as not to be heard—or not be heard by a normal person anyway—Liam looked at Bruce, face serious. "Thank you for taking care of her, Bruce. She's been too busy looking out for me to take care of herself. I don't think she's gotten more than a few hours of sleep these last few days."

"You don't have to thank me, Liam."

The older man levelled a considering glance at Bruce. Something crossed his eyes, something not so friendly, but then a wide smile broke out across his face, a genuine grin. "No, I suppose I don't. You know, Naomi was ecstatic to see you and Eleanor together—in whatever way the two of you are together," he added hastily. Clearly, Liam was more observant than usually given credit for. "It made her so happy."

Bruce just smiled.

When Bruce settled back onto the couch beside Eleanor, she gave him a smile that looked remarkably like Naomi's in several of the photos he'd seen. "Do you think my Dad knows?"

"I think he knows something is up."

"I guess you've got to be intelligent to become a brain surgeon," Eleanor sighed.

"Who knew?"

Eleanor laughed again, quiet, more private, and got up from the couch, returning the photo album to the table where it had been sitting. "I'm starving. Do you want to go sit on the porch?"

Bruce gestured for her to lead the way. He was pleased to hear she had an appetite again, and even more pleased when she heaped a plate full of food. He grabbed a smaller plate himself and followed her through the house to the kitchen and out onto a small and more secluded porch with a square dining table big enough for two comfortably and up to four not so comfortably. She sat in the chair closest to the garden as Bruce raised the umbrella to ward off the persistent drizzle. He sat down to her left, so he could see the door, and they ate in relative silence, just enjoying the moments away from the crowd inside. It always seemed that there were more people than there should be at funerals, and a lot of people no one really new.

"My mother would have hated all this," Eleanor said, gesturing back towards the house. "All the black and the sadness and the bad food." She made a face at the sandwich in front of her. "She would have wanted a party, with bright dresses and champagne and celebrating." Eleanor smiled warmly at Bruce, her eyes far off as she remembered her mother. "She always loved those stupid parties."

Bruce shifted his chair closer and placed a hand on Eleanor's shoulder, near the base of her neck. She leaned into the contact and placed her hand over his, squeezing gently. "Did you want to stay here with Liam tonight?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No. No, he needs some time to himself. He can call if he needs me, but I think I need to get back out."

Bruce nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but Eleanor's cell phone vibrated against the table. It had been off the entire day, and she'd only just turned it back on after the ceremony. She looked down at the display and frowned, deep lines creasing between her brows, and when she showed Bruce the screen, he knew why. It was a payphone.

"Hello?" she said curiously.

_"ELLIE! OH THANK GOD!"_

Eleanor jumped and nearly dropped the phone, she fumbled at the side and got it on speaker as she set it on the table. "SHAUNA!" she gasped with relief. "Shauna, where are you? Are you all right?"

_"No, no, no, I don't know. I don't know where I am or if I'm all right." _There was obvious panic in Shauna's voice and Eleanor reached towards the phone as if she could do something about it through the device. _"I'm by water, Ellie, that's all I know. And it smells like fish. There are boats, lots of boats, and big buildings. I don't like it here." _

"Shauna, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

_"I'm not sure. I'm afraid he'll come after me again. I don't know where to go…"_

"Just get yourself somewhere safe Shauna, somewhere hidden. I'll come find you. We'll come find you. Call the police if you have to."

_"Try and hurry okay?" _Shauna asked, voice cracking with desperation.

"We will. We'll be there as soon as we can."

_"Okay, good. I'm going to go hide now…" _

The line clicked dead and Eleanor sat back in her chair, staring at the phone. Bruce ended the call and got to his feet. Eleanor put the cell phone back in her purse and got to her feet, weaving a little as did so. "Where do you think she is?" she managed to ask as she attempted to gather the plates up and move towards the door.

"Somewhere down by the fishing docks. You're not going to get boats, water and a fish smell anywhere else."

"Right. Detective skills." Eleanor tried to make it a joke. She made it into the house and dropped the plates on the counter before making a beeline for the dining room where the other guests were still milling about. Eleanor spotted Adam standing by the window and went to him. "Adam! Adam! Shauna's fine! She just called me! Come on! We're going to go get her!" She had to pull the engineer several steps before he overcame his stunned silence and started walking on his own accord. "Come on!"

"Is she okay?"

"She's alive," Eleanor said as they left the house. "That's all I can guarantee."

As Eleanor and Adam followed Bruce across the driveway to where he had parked his car, she smiled to herself. It wasn't a happy smile, but she did feel better, better than she had felt since the night her mother had been killed. Perhaps it was because Shauna was alive and perhaps it was because she was working again—this was her job and it felt good. Bruce looked over his shoulder at he and she gave him the same smile. He tapped the side of his face near his eyes and Eleanor realized her eyes were changing, she could feel the faint tingling that accompanied her transformations. She concentrated until she knew her eyes were their normal cobalt colour and then climbed into the passenger seat with Adam behind her and Bruce behind the wheel.

They drove to the fishing docks as fast as they could without drawing too much attention from civilians or the police. Eleanor called Commissioner Gordon on the way and asked if there had been a 911 call from the area a few minutes before. There was one on record, from the same payphone that Shauna had called Eleanor from. She got an address from him, and only managed that because she explained that they were on the way there now and because she was Eleanor Black, the woman who had risked her life to help Batman bring down the Doppelganger. Her name and her history did carry some weight; dropping Bruce's name probably helped as well. Regardless of how she did it, Eleanor got the address and Bruce parked the car as close as he could get to the payphone and the passengers climbed out to start looking for Shauna.

Adam was the one who found her, huddled under a staircase on the outside of a warehouse, pressed between two dingy crates and clinging to what was left of her dress. "She's over here!" he called as he crouched down in front of her.

"Adam, Adam," Shauna gasped, reaching for his shirt.

He pulled her from between the crates as gently as he could and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek, her temple, her ear. "Oh God Shauna, you're alive!" he managed between tears.

Eleanor and Bruce came at a run, stopping short of the pair on the ground. Shauna was covered in blood and grime and one eyes was swollen nearly completely shut. She was missing three teeth, and there were so many small cuts and lacerations that there was no question torture had been involved; she was also holding her leg at an awkward angle, like it was broken, and gasping in such a way that Eleanor knew there were cracked ribs in there.

"Shauna!" Eleanor exclaimed, falling to her knees beside Adam and Shauna.

"I hear the sirens," Bruce informed the trio. "There will be an ambulance. We'll get you to a hospital Shauna."

She looked up at Bruce, a strange look visible in her good eye. There was something almost accusatory in that glance, but she didn't say anything about it. "Thank you," was all she did say.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

City of Delusion—Muse, Black Holes and Revelations.  
So Cold—Breaking Benjamin, We Are Not Alone.**  
**  
Okay, so I know Catwoman's been on the periphery, but she will pay more of a role soon.

Anyways, this was a hard chapter to write for various reasons that I'm not going to try and explain, because I'm not sure I can. Eleanor just didn't want to share this go-around. I might have to watch some more Batman to get the muse refocused, but we'll see.

I'm done school now as well so I will be writing more. I will be working on my original story too, so the fanficiton might be slow in coming, but it will come. Promise. I've got lots I want to write and my fanfiction characters often provide inspiration for my original stuff, so I can't just abandon them.

Enjoy.

**Next Chapter: Naked As We Came; Take Me For A Little While. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Naked as We Came

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Thirteen: Naked As We Came; Take Me For A Little While.

* * *

It took Eleanor a moment to realize Blaze was barking at her. The husky was sitting at her feet, wagging his bushy tail, a large stick in front of his paws.

Eleanor had been standing in the back yard of Wayne Manor for a few hours now, throwing the stick when she remembered and watching her dog run after it; some days the aging animal still had the energy of a young pup. Her thoughts weren't really on the game of fetch though, or her dog or the back yard. Eleanor's thoughts were outside of the manor, at the hospital with Shauna and Adam, who refused to leave her side, and at her family home, in the ground with her mother and in the house with her father. Her thoughts were everywhere but in her head and with everyone but her; in the back of her mind, she thought about Shauna's betrayal, but it wasn't in the forefront, wasn't the most important thing.

Shaking her head slightly, Eleanor bent over and once more picked up the stick. The bark was slightly damp from Blaze's saliva, but she ignored it as she flung the stick as far as she could towards the trees that lined the back of the Wayne property. It was quite far. As she watched her dog run, Eleanor noticed the clouds, that had been nearly black when she'd left the house, were now almost white; the sun had risen into the sky while she'd been standing there, throwing the stupid stick. She looked down at her watch and, sure enough, it was nearly seven in the morning; time to get ready to go to work. Eleanor shook her head and turned her back on the yard. A couple of steps later, Bruce emerged from the manor, the newspaper clutched in one hand. Eleanor stopped to look at him, a small smile on her lips, a small token of the comfort being around him gave her.

"Did you sleep at all?" Bruce asked.

Eleanor shook her head. They vigilantes had returned around three in the morning and Eleanor had attempted to go straight to bed. She had not been able to sleep, so she'd wandered around the mansion thinking of her mother and of Shauna while Bruce did whatever he did on the master computer down in the Batcave. She had heard when he'd finally gone to bed an hour later. Again, she had attempted to sleep, but the blissful silence wouldn't come so she had retreated first to the library and then to the backyard.

"No," she said after a moment. "I didn't—_don't_—feel tired."

Bruce remained still while she crossed the patio to stand in front of him. She remained a few inches away for a brief moment and then stepped into him. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and held her there. She leaned into the warmth. Blaze ran up from the grass and dropped the stick at their feet, tail still wagging. When they parted, Bruce handed the newspaper to Eleanor.

It was folded in quarters, highlighting the article he wanted her to read; clearly he had already perused the paper. The article was about her mother: "Naomi Black, beloved wife, mother and renowned cardiothoracic surgeon." The words in the article were glowing, loaded with praise and everything Naomi deserved. There were condolences and well wishes for her family, and it was everything Eleanor expected it to be. She didn't recognize the name of the author of the article, but she did care. Eleanor gave Bruce a watery smile before she flipped the newspaper open and moved to the front page, to where news of the criminals would likely be. Old habits die hard and all that.

"Catwoman has been busy," she noted. "But none of these robberies are as high profile as her first ones." Eleanor's voice grew stronger as she spoke, more like herself. Working agreed with her.

"She's been moving all around the city as well."

"So it's nearly impossible to track her or predict her movements." Eleanor's cobalt eyes scanned the articles quickly, taking in all the information she could. "Any news from the Joker?"

Bruce shook his head. "He seems to be biding his time for something."

Eleanor looked up at Bruce then and her eyes were wide again, afraid. "Do you think he got any information from Shauna other than my identity? Do you think she told him anything about you or what we do or anything?"

The shrug was barely perceptible, but it was there. "The only way to know that for sure is to talk to her. Have you been to see her since she was admitted?"

It took a few seconds, but Eleanor shook her head. Shauna had been admitted right after they'd found her yesterday afternoon. Adam had taken her to the hospital and Eleanor hadn't gone to visit. Granted, there hadn't been much time, but she could have gone. But Eleanor was afraid to go to the hospital, afraid of what she'd find out. She didn't want to know that her best friend had betrayed her, that she told the Joker the secret identities of Darkshade and Batman. She didn't want to know. She would talk to Shauna eventually, but not now, not when she was still a victim, still suffering. Eleanor did not want to put the burden of Naomi's death on Shauna's mind. She sighed heavily. Eleanor turned her eyes back to the newspaper, a blush in her cheeks and a creeping pain in her back.

She shoved the paper back into Bruce's hands suddenly as the pain began to escalate. It radiated upward from the base of her spine and out along her arms until the skin on the back of her hands began to bubble again. Bruce made a move as if to grab her hand, but she stepped backwards, tucking her hands in tightly against her sides and doubling over as the pain in her back increased. She backed herself up against the patio railing and clenched her teeth against a scream.

"Ellie!" Bruce exclaimed, rushing forward to catch her before she hit the patio.

She straightened after a moment, unfolded her arms. "I'm all right," she gasped. "It's just stress." Giving him another weak smile, Eleanor gently pushed herself out of Bruce's arms and showed him the backs of her hands; the skin had stopped bubbling but the marks were an angry shade of red. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Fine."

"Stop saying that; you're not fine."

Eleanor dropped the smile and nodded as she sighed. "Okay," she admitted. "I'm not fine. My mother is dead and Shauna is in the hospital, both because of The Joker, and we can't find him, and the more stressed out I get about this, the more pain I feel." She tucked her hands back under her arms and winced. Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, but she held Bruce's gaze.

Bruce cupped his hand around Eleanor's jaw, his thumb running lightly over her skin and his blue eyes locked on hers. "Why didn't you say anything about the pain?"

Her eyes flickered to the ground before reaching his face again. She looked ashamed and there was a faint tinge of colour decorating her cheeks as she reached up to wrap her fingers around Bruce's hand on her face. "Because I knew you'd keep me from going out again, until we were absolutely sure that I wasn't going to have any adverse side effects. I don't want to stop doing this, Bruce. The pain only shows up when I'm stressed out and it has never lasted for longer than a few seconds and if it had, I would have told you. And there might never be a time when we're sure I won't feel any pain from the nanomachines." There was a ball of anger in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it, tried to not let it bleed into her voice. She was learning some control.

For a few minutes, Eleanor wasn't sure what Bruce was going to say. What he did say was not what she would have expected. "All right. Let's just get ready and head into the office." He flexed his fingers briefly against her cheek and then headed inside, Eleanor following close behind.

Blaze decided to chase some squirrels.

* * *

The day had been full of boring meetings, answering e-mails, meeting executives, fielding phone calls to potential clients and buyers and all that other cooperate jazz. Bruce didn't put much work in at Wayne Enterprises, other than semi-regular appearances, but sometimes, he did work; had to put up a good façade and all. Eleanor had thrown herself into doing whatever was needed and when it was time to go home, she was more than ready. Bruce, who had spent most of the day with Lucius and in the meetings, found her waiting by the elevator, pulling on the gloves she'd elected to wear to cover the marks on her hands; the blue colour that had seeped into her nails had begun to recede, and she'd just been covering it with nail polish. She hadn't said a word to him—just gave him a small smile and walked with him down to the parking garage. The ride home had been silent but not uncomfortable, and when they arrived back at the manor, Eleanor went straight up to her room and shut the door.

She was worn out, so Bruce let her be as he set about preparing for the night's patrol. Eleanor didn't come down when Alfred told her dinner was ready and she didn't respond when Alfred went to check on her. Before Bruce ventured down to the cave, he went upstairs to check on Eleanor. To make sure she was still breathing. He knew how she felt and he knew how dangerous a place that mindset could be. He didn't really think Eleanor would do anything so stupid, but he couldn't leave without knowing she was okay.

He found her sitting on the window seat with her knees drawn up to her chest and her forehead pressed against the glass as she watched the rain fall. The dismal weather had always seemed to calm her. A large part of him wanted to tell her to get downstairs, to do the job she signed up to do, but he didn't act on that. Instead, he went with the smaller part, the part of him that remembered what it was like to lose a parent, the part that understood where she was at mentally. He crossed the room and settled onto the window seat across from her. She slowly turned to face him and that lost and unnerving look was on her face again.

"I can't give up, can I?" she asked.

Bruce gave her a small shrug. "You could. But you wanted this; you went after it. Could you live with walking away from this?"

Thin lines appeared between her eyebrows and her mouth twisted slightly as she thought about it, really thought about it. After a while, she sighed and let her head drop back against the glass. "No," she breathed. "I couldn't just walk away. Not now, not this far in." The smile she gave Bruce then was a little bitter, but it made him feel better just to see it. "I think we screwed this one up, don't you?"

Not one to admit he was wrong, Bruce sucked it up and returned the same smile. "It might have been a little rash."

"It's time to go, isn't it?"

Again, that desire to tell her to get up and do her job flared, but again he pressed it down. "Get some rest. You're of no use to me tired."

Eleanor gave a small almost bark of laughter and then nodded with her head still against the window. Thunder boomed dully outside and lightening flashed for almost a second. "All right, I'll try and get some rest. You go be a hero all by yourself." That smile remained on her lips.

Bruce got to his feet, but remained beside the window seat. "I'll be back."

"I know."

* * *

Shauna could see birds flying around Adam's head. Little blue birds, like those Disney movies, just tweeting away and fluttering away. She half expected a princess to waltz through the door and join the little critters in their song before getting them to help with her chores. No princess came however and the birds remained flying around Adam's head.

She giggled into her hand, trying to muffle the noise, but it still woke her fellow engineer from his slumber. As Adam opened his light blue eyes, Shauna gave him a bright grin and reached out a hand for him. "You have birds flying around your head," she said.

"You're high." Adam took her head and shuffled his chair closer to the bed. He returned her smile regardless as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. "But you're awake."

"I'm awake."

After Adam had brought Shauna to the hospital and she felt safe, she had passed out from exhaustion, blood loss and panic. The doctors had been able to patch up all her injuries, broken wrist, fingers and all, and she had needed close to one hundred stitches in total. After she was patched up, the doctors had given her some super powerful painkiller and left her to sleep. They had brought a cot for Adam to sleep on and he had remained in Shauna's room all night. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't. He had lost Shauna once and he didn't plan on doing it again.

"I'm so sorry I let you get taken," Adam said, still holding Shauna's hand against his face.

Even though the haze of the drugs, Shauna could see that Adam was hurting. "It's not your fault, Adam. I'm not mad at you." She gave him the best smile she could and rubbed her thumb a little clumsily across his cheek. "Could you get me some water please?"

Adam brought her a cup of water with a straw bent over the side. He helped her get the straw into her mouth and then set the cup on the table beside her bed. The drink seemed to help clear more of the cobwebs from her head, for when she looked at Adam again, her blue eyes were clear and Adam felt he could risk the question. "Do you remember anything?" he asked, running his fingers back through his messy hair.

"I remember it all Adam…" She sighed and closed her eyes. "Has Eleanor stopped by?"

"No, she hasn't. Why do you sound scared?"

Shauna shook her head. "Just thinking about last night, about the time I spent with the Joker." She leaned heavily into her pillows and rolled her head to look him in the eye. "I'm tired, Adam."

There was something in his face that said he wanted to say more, to ask more questions, but he didn't. Shauna was sure they would come, but at that moment he didn't push. He rose off his chair and kissed her forehead, one hand running over her auburn hair softly. "Get some rest then. I'm going to get something to eat. I'll be here when you wake up."

Shauna smiled as she watched Adam leave the room. Part of her was glad Eleanor had not stopped by, but she knew, sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with the fallout. She had betrayed Eleanor. She knew that. She hated herself for that, and she knew she had to tell Eleanor that, but she was scared. She didn't want to lose her best friend, but she knew it was a possibility. Shauna rolled onto her side and pressed her face into the pillow as she cried.

* * *

When Eleanor woke up, it was just around midnight; she managed about an hour of sleep. She stared up at the ceiling of the blue room for a moment and then rubbed vigorously at her eyes until the blurriness had vanished; some things, it seemed, the nanomachines just couldn't get rid of. Vision clear and more awake then she cared to be after only an hour of sleep, Eleanor climbed out of bed, adjusted her pyjamas and then stood there, toes sinking into the deep carpet and wondering what to do or where to go. She knew she didn't want to climb back into bed. She wouldn't sleep. She had felt better, but after a day of straight working where she ended up exhausted, everything had just come back. Her mother's murder, Shauna's attack, Shauna's betrayal…

Suddenly, Eleanor was very aware of how big Wayne Manor was and how alone she felt. Blaze was asleep in the kitchen where it was warmest and Alfred was asleep downstairs in his room. She wouldn't have woken him anyway. She looked around for something of comfort and found nothing; the blanket she had become so fond of was in the cave and right then the place that usually was the most comfortable felt foreign and scary. Instead, Eleanor left her room and walked down the hall to where she could climb into Bruce's bed, on his side and wrap herself in his blankets and breathe in the smell of him that clung to the sheets. It helped. She knew he would be home in a few hours, but it helped just to have the smell of him around her. It was a smell that didn't remind her of Batman, of any of the more interesting side of her life. Wrapped in Bruce's blankets, she felt normal and safe and not like the woman who had brought death to her mother.

She still couldn't get to sleep.

When Bruce came back around two in the morning, Eleanor was still awake, lying on her back with her eyes glued to the ceiling. He looked down at her, an imperceptible look on his face. When she didn't respond to it right away or say anything, he settled himself on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on the covers over her leg, fingers tightening around the shape of her thigh.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

She rubbed her face against the pillow and then looked up at him, one hand moving to grasp his. "I just… I woke up a few hours ago and I didn't want to be alone." Eleanor squeezed his hand.

Bruce nodded. Eleanor shifted over on the bed so Bruce could lay down beside her and then she curled up against his chest, savouring the feel of his arms around her and terribly glad she had him—someone who made her feel safe and warm—there to hold her. She couldn't even imagine going through this like Bruce had, when he was little and with only Alfred. He had cut almost everyone else out of his young life and subjected himself to this suffering alone. And he had lost both his parents. Eleanor drew herself closer and pressed her face into his chest, trying to give back some of the comfort he had given and continued to give her.

"Ellie, it's all right. I'm here. You're not alone."

She lifted her head and then shifted so she was lying level with Bruce and could put her hand lightly on his cheek. The distraught young woman pressed her lips against Bruce's at the same time she pressed her body into his, the touches almost tentative. His lips were soft and warm as he returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her as close as possible.

When Eleanor pulled back a fraction of an inch, she smiled at Bruce, a small, warm smile beneath her cobalt eyes. She wanted so bad to tell him that she loved him in that moment, because she did and she had for a long time. She even thought Bruce might love her too, but she wouldn't say it and she wouldn't make him say it. She wasn't stupid. He knew how she felt, but saying those three words would make it more real and potentially make it a problem. Instead, Eleanor just smiled at him and kissed him again, kissed him like it was all that mattered and in that moment, it was.

Bruce rolled them over so Eleanor was lying on top of him and then shifted into a half-reclined position which forced Eleanor to straddle his legs and lean into his chest. He moved his hands to her hips and kissed her again, fingers trailing lightly over the skin of her stomach. She shivered, but leaned into the touch as she returned the kiss, her own hands marking a path up his arms.

"You're not alone," he whispered again, mouth against her ear.

Her hands slid under Bruce's t-shirt and across his well-defined stomach and chest, lifting the shirt up with the movement. Bruce lifted his arms so she could pull the shirt off. She pressed her lips to his neck and moved upward, whispering "Neither are you" against his skin.

Bruce pulled her pyjama shirt over her head leaving her naked from the waste up and then kissed her again, hands moving across her shoulders and down her arms, barely brushing the fine hairs; his thumbs brushed along her sides and around the edge of her brests. She trembled against his hands, a small moan escaping her lips when his kisses moved down her neck and towards her chest. Eleanor leaned back as his mouth slid lower and then moved to lie on the bed, Bruce in a sort of push-up position above her, his lower body pressed against hers. Eleanor smiled up at him as she ran her fingers along the top of his jeans, the tops of her fingers sliding underneath the fabric, the edge of a throaty chuckle escaping her lips.

* * *

The sunlight on her face woke Eleanor up around eleven. She blinked several times before she rolled onto her back and stretched; it had been a long time since she'd slept for that long at once. The nanomachines meant she didn't need a whole lot of sleep but after the last few days, she had needed it regardless of her biomechanical upgrades. When the stretch started to hurt, Eleanor released it and then untangled herself from the sheets and climbed out of the king sized bed. She stood naked on the floor for a minute before spotting her clothes and pulling them back on. Fully clothed, she left the bedroom. But didn't head down to the kitchen. She turned right and went for the study with its entrance to the Batcave, the vast hole in the ground once more the haven it had been.

The sound of batwings greeted her and she smiled to herself, tilting her head back as a stray breeze blew some hairs from her neck. She ached in a good way and being in the cave right then made her feel like herself. She was feeling better than she had been—more relaxed and centred, calm—but there was still a lot to face. Being in the cave helped her think. The batwings and faint trickling of water that Bruce couldn't even hear made her happy. Barefoot as per usual, Eleanor strode across the floor to the room where the suits were kept. She keyed in the code and opened the door once it clicked unlocked. Once inside, she walked to where her black and blue outfit hung and stood in front of it.

They had to find the Joker and his henchwomen and stop them from taking any one else's mother away. Stop them from hurting anyone else. She brushed her fingers along the bizarre fabric of Darkshade's tank top and sighed. The thoughts she'd had of quitting had been faint and brief; she had never really considered it. There was no way she could go back to a normal life, not now. She had to fight the bad guys of Gotham. She had to stand with Batman against them.

"Ms. Black?"

Eleanor jumped. She'd been absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Alfred coming up behind her and she hadn't smelled the food, even without her senses. "Jesus Alfred! You scared me."

"I apologize Ms. Black. I did not think it likely that I would be able to sneak up on you."

She waved off the apology and watched him set the platter of food on the small table inside the room. "How did you know I was down here?" she asked.

Alfred looked at her and the look was solid and unwavering. "Where else would you be?"

As the aging butler gave her his enigmatic smile and left her to her thoughts, Eleanor found herself struck by what he said. She turned back to her costume and took a handful of the coat in one hand. It still felt unfamiliar, but she hadn't had it that long. She would have to break it in and make it hers, just like Bruce had made the Batsuit his, but she knew she couldn't leave it hanging there, a spot of bright blue among the endless black and grey. She had worked to get it, now she had to make it belong.

Eleanor's improved mood could only be dampened by the faint throbbing pain along her spine.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Naked As We Came – Iron & Wine  
Take Me For A Little While – Jimmy Page and David Coverdale

This fic is kicking my ass, emotionally speaking. It's proving hard to write. I love it though and am going to finish it. The beating should lessen after this chapter and then the updates will come first. It's also difficult to write because Eleanor doesn't experience emotions the way most people would, or would expect. Ellie is difficult. I think she likes it.

This fic is also kicking my ass because it's taking me a long freaking time to write. I hate it when I realize the length of time I've been working on something. I should have been done this one by now. Hopefully it won't take that long to finish.

Catwoman and the other characters will be in the next chapter. These last couple chapters had to be emotional ones, focused on what's going on outside of the action, especially with Eleanor, who is the main character. She's got a lot to deal with and she's not going to do that well.

Anyways, please enjoy. I'll try and update quicker.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Don't Trust Me. **


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Don't Trust Me

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Fourteen: Don't Trust Me.

* * *

"Why has the Lampshade not been out in the fair streets of Gotham? WHY? Why haven't you been able to find her?"

"Batman—"

The Queen of Spades bit off a scream as the Joker hit her across the face with the rubber chicken again; turned it into a laugh before sending a wad of bloody spit out against the dingy floor. She leaned back against the wall, her head lolling to one side and the strange grin still on her face as she looked up at the Joker. It had been her job to find and track and capture that Darkshade vigilante—Eleanor or whatever her name was—and she hadn't been able to find her, not alone and not in a position where she could be captured. The Queen of Spades had been out the past couple nights trying to find the black and blue hero, but she had never strayed far from Batman, if she had come out of their cave at all. "I'll get her," the villain slurred, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. "I'll get her. I will."

"Queeny, you shouldn't disappoint Mista J like this," Harley chided. She dropped to her knees beside the taller henchwoman and wiped up the blood with a suitably messy rag. The jug of XXX alcohol was in her hand again and it stung as she poured it over the sounds. The hyenas yipped behind her, but they were chained to the walls and couldn't actually get at anyone. Harley would let them off their leads soon enough. "We've just got to get her alone! It can't be that hard."

"I'll get her."

Harley dug her finger into a wound on Queeny's arm and pulled chunks of glass out, followed by a torrent of blood which she quickly sopped up. "You'll get her."

Queeny screamed as booze poured into the hole in her arm. "I'll get her."

The Joker dropped The Queen of Spades' purple gloves on her head. "Then go and do it. Find her. Trap her and I will bring her back here." He turned his back on the henchwomen and started out of the room. "She knows who the Batdork really is and I will make her tell me." A rather high-pitched laugh leaked out of the Joker's lips along with something that sounded like "end to the Batman" over and over again. When he turned back to face his henchwomen, his face was twisted into its increasingly common demented grin. He crossed the room and extended a hand down to The Queen of Spades.

"I'll get her."

"I heard you Queeny," he said as he wrapped his long-fingered hand around hers. As she rose, her body started to convulse and the Joker started to laugh. When she finally collapsed, the Joker waved the amped-up hand buzzer in her face. "Don't fail, Queeny, or you know what waits."

After the Joker, Harley Quinn and the hyenas left, The Queen of Spades staggered to her feet and pulled on her gloves. She shivered as she felt the energy work its way through her body; it was becoming an increasingly familiar sensation, one she looked forward to and liked and didn't feel herself without. The Queen of Spades picked up her black and purple top hat and placed it back on her green hair and walked from the so-called torture room, humming some random tune under her breath with a smile on her face. She had a good feeling about tonight's attempt.

* * *

Eleanor put her forehead against the window and peered through the wire mesh inside the glass and the blinds on the other side. She could just make out Shauna lying in the bed, laughing at something Adam had said. Something was keeping Eleanor from going any farther, from moving into that room and seeing her friend. "Something" was the fact that Shauna had betrayed her, had given the Joker her real name, allowing the deranged clown to move on her family, to murder Naomi and injure Liam; Eleanor ground her teeth together just thinking about it, but she still didn't step into that room. She was afraid of what might come out of her mouth, of what she might do. That her back was still hurting didn't help, and she wasn't going to let it cause any more damage than had already been done. So she stood in the hallway and watched Shauna laugh, watched her be happy.

Logically, Eleanor knew that Shauna would have only betrayed her under duress, under torture, but that thought wasn't really helping. It was only making Eleanor angrier, and she wasn't sure who at. Was she angry at Shauna for the betrayal? For giving into torture? Was she angry at the Joker for harming her friends and her family? Was she angry at herself for not being able to save her mother or rescue Shauna? Was she angry at Bruce for injecting her with the nanomachines and putting her in this situation in the first place?

_No, definitely not mad at Bruce, _she told herself. _I asked for this and I have to deal with it._

Eleanor sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door to Shauna's hospital room. When she opened it and stepped into the bright fluorescent lighting, she tried to smile, but the gesture failed. Sensing the tension, Adam got up and left and the two women were left staring at each other across what felt like a chasm. He gave Eleanor a weak smile as he passed and mumbled a hello that she didn't return.

"How are you doing?" Eleanor asked Shauna, her voice tight. She crossed her arms under her chest and stood at the foot of the bed, trying not to frown too much.

Shauna pushed some of her auburn hair back behind her ear and Eleanor saw her throat move as she swallowed. "I'm doing fine… the doctors are going to let me go home probably tomorrow with some serious painkillers. They want me to see a shrink through."

"Well Wayne Enterprises will foot that bill. I'm sure the company has more than a few shrinks on speed dial." The words came out bitter and Eleanor hated herself for that. And then the room went silent.

"Ellie—" Shauna said eventually. She was looking at her hands on the bed.

The blue-eyed Gothamite held her hand up, stopping her friend's words in their tracks. "Don't apologize to me Shauna. Not now. Not like this." Eleanor took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let it out slowly. When she opened them again, things felt a little more stable but a little less real, almost like this was a dream. _If only, _Eleanor thought. "I'm not ready for you to apologize to me yet; I'm still so mad at you." Her voice began to shake at the same time her hands did. She shoved them in the pockets of her jacket to hide the motion, even though she knew Shauna would catch it anyway. "You betrayed me to a madman and then that madman killed my mother, so no, you can't apologize yet. And I know that you were being tortured and it's not fair for me to be so angry. You didn't ask for this and it's because of me you were captured in the first place, but you're alive and your whole family is alive and mine isn't."

Shauna's cheeks had become very wet with tears, and Eleanor was afraid of what was going to come out of her mouth, but then she offered up a weak smile. "You're allowed to be a little irrational Ellie. Right now, you're allowed to be crazy mad and hate me and all that other stuff, but I'm glad you came."

Eleanor approached the bed and wrapped her fingers around Shauna's hand. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a dark voice told Eleanor to squeeze until the bones popped, until Shauna screamed, until she felt a modicum on the pain that Eleanor was living with, but the vigilante ignored that voice and focused her cobalt eyes on Shauna, on her friend. "Me too, Shauna." Eleanor lifted Shauna's hand and gently kissed the back of it, tears blossoming in her own eyes. "I'm happy you're alive, that you escaped. I don't know what I would have done if he'd taken you too."

"I'll be here when you're ready to talk; when you're done being blindingly mad at me."

Eleanor felt herself laugh and it felt good, but she couldn't bring herself to get any closer to Shauna, so she stood there and gave her a small smile—all that she could manage—and held her hand. "I've got to go now."

"Gotta catch the son of a bitch who put me in here, gotcha."

Eleanor nodded and placed Shauna's hand back on the bed and then walked to the door. She nodded once and then left, almost running into Adam as she did so. He was carrying two containers of chocolate pudding and two spoons. He smiled at Eleanor and there was a light in his eyes, something that hadn't been there since Shauna had been taken.

"She didn't think you'd come and see her for some reason, Ellie."

Eleanor shrugged and tried her best to appear a little confused by that notion. "Can't imagine why she'd think that. You and Shauna are my best friends."

"That's what I told her."

"Take care of her, Adam." Eleanor's voice had grown tight again and the tears were back, pressing at her eyes and making her nose itch.

"You don't have to worry about that."

Eleanor left the hospital then and went straight back to the manor, head buzzing with all her thoughts and with the prospect of being mad at Shauna for a while. They had never had a real fight, a real this-could-be-the-end fight, not in the years that they had known each other, so this was new territory and she wasn't really sure how to deal with it. When she got back home, she went straight down the cave, barely pausing to say hello to Alfred and to call to Blaze, who fell in stride behind his owner like he had been trained to do, although he couldn't take all the stairs as fast as she could.

Bruce was where she expected him to be: sitting in front of the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as he stared at the massive screen. He'd been down there most of the day, working on the new parts of the Batcave, so it was kind of mess. Eleanor managed to find a clear spot on the desk and hopped into it, dropping her purse on the floor by Blaze as he curled into a fluffy ball underneath her.

"How is Shauna doing?" Bruce asked without turning to look at her.

Eleanor took a deep breath. "She's recovering."

"And you?"

"I'm so mad, but happy she's alive. And I can't really figure out who or what I'm mad at. There are so many thoughts buzzing around my head right now that I'm not sure which way is up," she said, gesturing vaguely to the air around her head. "I can't think straight."

Bruce had finally turned to look at her, his blue eyes dark with concentration and a bit of concern. He laced his fingers in front of him, elbows braced on the arms of his chair. The man behind the mask of Batman just stared at her, didn't say anything, but then again, he didn't really need to. Eleanor had been around him long enough to be able to glean a piece of what he was thinking from the minute changes in his face.

"I don't think I'll be coming with you tonight," she said, answering the unasked question. "I'm bound to get myself or you hurt or worse and I don't need that on my conscious as well."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"Yes. It's not like I'm quitting."

But it was exactly like she was quitting and Eleanor realized that several hours later, while she was sitting in the middle of an untouched expanse of cave, meditating and trying to find peace amongst the thoughts in her head and the pain in her back. She huffed loudly, the noise echoing around her, and fell onto her back, the cold stone going unnoticed to her enhanced physique; not for the first time, she wished that wasn't the case. If she could feel the cold, maybe it would help her focus.

_What are you doing? You can't play at this vigilante hero thing, Eleanor. You forced Bruce into giving you those nanomachines because he knew that if he didn't find some way to help you, you would wind up getting yourself killed trying to help Batman. You can't just give up when you face… something. Anything. _Eleanor squinted up at the dark ceiling as some bats flew overhead, their flapping wings and chirping voices making her smile subconsciously. _This is where you belong now and you know it. You can't give up. You should have gone with him._

_**Or you could go out on your own.**_

Eleanor sat upright as the voice and the pain appeared at the same time. She managed not to scream, but it was close. A strangled noise escaped her lips as she pushed herself to her feet.

_**Come on. He gave you the tools; you can do this on your own. You don't need him to hold your hand.**_

"I need Bruce," she whispered. Tears had started to fall down her cheeks. The voice was stronger than it had been the last time it had made itself heard when she'd been running from almost killing a man. It was no longer just a whisper, a breath. It was full-fledged and it sounded like Eleanor. "I need him."

_**No. You only think you need him. He's made you rely on him and the training he's giving you. You don't need it. You could be stronger, better on your own, without his guidance, without his morals keeping you from achieving your greatest possibility. **_

As Eleanor opened her mouth to protest further, pain shot up through her spine and out along her nerves. She felt like she was on fire, and this time, she did scream. Eleanor opened her mouth and screamed as she fell to the ground and curled into a ball, as if that could protect her from the pain she was feeling, the pain that came from inside. She knew the voice was related to the nanomachines, that the biological restructuring going on in her brain was making her more susceptible to something… to her own dark thoughts? But knowing that didn't make it stop hurting. Knowing that only made it worse, because she should be able to control her own body. If only she could focus…

Eleanor wanted to think of her anger; something easy. She wanted to focus on her rage because that was right on the surface and right then, it was the biggest part of her, but she didn't. Instead, she focused on Bruce, because he was training her and because she loved him. He was giving her all the guidance she needed to make the nanomachines work for her, work with her instead of against her. They had both seen what happened when the nanomachines took hold and Eleanor did not want to become that greenish, hulking, crazy mess of a person. She wanted to stay herself and she wanted to not hurt anymore. They couldn't take the nanomachines out, but she could learn to control them and Bruce could teach her to do that; the man she loved could save her.

It even sounded cliché to her right then, as she struggled to her feet, but Eleanor didn't care. The pain receded as she thought of Bruce, of Batman and all that he stood for, and that was all she needed. As she moved back to the main section of the Batcave, the pain returned to its formal dull throb in the base of her spine. When she had finished pulling on her Darkshade identity, hair and all, the pain was almost gone and she could have laughed. Instead, she pushed her domino mask into place and left the cave at a run, intent on finding Batman out in the dark streets of Gotham.

* * *

Catwoman wasn't in the habit of following people unless they had something worth stealing, but this one was curious. And yes, she knew what curiosity did to the cat.

Regardless of the potential danger, Catwoman was slinking along the rooftops behind a woman who looked a lot like the Joker and wore the ugliest top hat she had ever seen; what was with some of these costumes? At least hers was practical as well as theatrical. The dress the villain ahead of her was wearing could not have made climbing across the roofs easy. It must have been that Queen of Spades or whatever, his henchwoman. But where was she going and why was she by herself? Catwoman had never seen either of the Joker's henchwomen out alone. They were always with some muscle or other if they weren't with the Joker himself and they were always looking for trouble. The Queen of Spades did look like she was tracking someone, but the only other person Catwoman had seen on the roofs was Darkshade, who was also uncharacteristically by herself. Why would The Queen of Spades be following Darkshade? What could that possibly get the Joker? Except maybe the location of Batman's hideout or whatever he called it. Maybe he had a Batcave.

Catwoman snorted a bit at her own joke and continued following in the bizarre parade across the rooftops. She wasn't quite sure why she continued following them, but she did. Maybe she would learn something useful, something she could use to her advantage later on. Maybe. No, she was mostly just curious. Curious as to why the Joker would have one of his main henchwomen following some sidekick who was headed deeper into the city, where it wasn't very likely there would be a cave of any sort.

The burglar climbed up the side of a water tower to try and get a better view of what was going on. Darkshade was standing on the edge of a roof three buildings ahead of The Queen of Spades and she appeared to be looking for something or someone—maybe she was looking for Batman. When Catwoman looked back at the villain trailing Darkshade, she expected her to be hiding, observing, but the woman was creeping closer and closer to Darkshade, moving almost like she had muscles in places normal humans did not. For a moment, Catwoman had the urge to yell out, to try and stop whatever was happening from happening, but she didn't. She clamped her mouth shut and just watched. Why should she get involved in something that wasn't her problem?

She had left her loft intending to rob someone. How had she ended up here?

Catwoman shook her head and leapt gracefully down from her perch, adjusting her goggles when she landed. She took a few steps back the way she had come when she heard the sounds of a fight. A scream went up into the night, followed by laughter and then the clanging of metal.

She almost turned again and went to see what had happened, but thought better of it. She had been as close to the Joker and his henchwomen as she ever wanted to be and she had given Batman all the information she had. There was nothing back there but trouble she didn't want a part of. Besides, Darkshade could take care of herself. However true that may have been, Catwoman stayed on that roof for another few moments before she was able to run away from the scene.

* * *

Fire escapes hurt.

Darkshade rolled onto her side and groaned as she felt her skin knit back together and her senses returned. She had taken several deep lacerations across her back from the rusted metal and a nice knock to the head and a broken arm. Thankfully, everything was healing quickly and without much pain; Darkshade did her best to ignore the faint throbbing and the fact that she was lying in a dirty alley. She hated falling, even though she knew she would survive. When she was in once piece again, Darkshade sat up and looked around the alley, hunting for the green and purple blur that had knocked her from the rooftop. She found The Queen of Spades lying in a puddle on her back, red-purple eyes staring up at the orange-coloured sky and a twisted grin on her face. Darkshade pushed herself up to her feet and shook her head. It almost sounded as if The Queen of Spades was laughing under her breath.

The vigilante crossed the distance between her and the villain and stood above her, wondering what the hell was up with this plan. Why had The Queen of Spades been following her by herself? Why had she tackled her into an alley when she knew she wouldn't survive the fall as well as Darkshade? Or did she know that? Did she care?

"Great," Darkshade muttered under her breath. "Because I need more questions I don't have the answer to." Using her foot, Darkshade rolled The Queen of Spades onto her stomach and crouched down to grab her hands and tie them with one of the plastic ties on her utility belt. The fall seemed to have sent the villain into a daze; all she could do was laugh. There didn't seem to be any serious injuries however. A miracle. "Not a smart move, Queeny," Darkshade told her prisoner. "You had to know I could survive the fall better than you." Darkshade shook her head and reached for the phone also on her belt.

Before she could retrieve it and call for a pickup however, The Queen of Spades rolled onto her back and turned her eyes up to Darkshade, the smile on her face twisting into an expression that may have been smug. "You fell right into my trap, little birdy."

"Sure I did."

Darkshade went to reach for her phone again, but an arm circled around her neck and hauled her back from her prisoner. The nanomachines could do a lot for Darkshade, but they couldn't keep her breathing if someone was trying to strangle her. When she caught sight of the purple sleeve, she knew who was holding her; the Joker was stronger than she had expected him to be. Intense rage filled every inch of Darkshade then and she began to struggle. She had to get free; she had to get him. For her mother, for Shauna and for all the others he'd hurt or killed. She struggled, but something sharp pricked at her neck and she stopped. She didn't want to get herself killed. It wasn't easy to stop however, not that close to the man who had killed her mother. Darkshade hung there, half-strangled and her breath coming out in ragged pants that sounded almost like growls.

"I'd listen to her, Lampshade," the Joker hissed in her ear. He pressed what it was—it might have been a needle—into her neck until it punctured the skin and the flesh beneath. Yeah, definitely a needle.

Darkshade tried to say something, but it came out as a grunt. The Joker sent whatever was in that syringe into her system and her last thoughts were how stupid she'd been, letting herself get caught in this trap. Bruce was going to be so mad at her. She slipped into unconsciousness and the Joker dropped her on the ground, leaving her for his henchmen to pick up.

* * *

Batman returned to the cave close to three thirty, expecting to see Eleanor in the chair she had occupied before joining him on patrols. She wasn't there. He called out to her, but the only reply was the echo of his own voice. Batman walked into the room where the vigilante's costumes were kept. Her clothes were folded on the small table beside the empty hook where Darkshade's outfit hung. The Dark Knight changed out of his grey and black outfit and pulled on the jeans and t-shirt Alfred had left for him and then he reached for the phone from his utility belt.

Darkshade's phone rang, but no one picked up.

Bruce replaced the phone and then headed back out into the cave proper. At the computer, he brought up the GPS tracker. He had given Eleanor back the marked batarang, but she liked to leave that one at home because of the sentimental value she had attached to it. Since she'd become a vigilante in her own right however, she had acquired a new one, on her utility belt. But the green dot was not showing up. Someone had either turned off or destroyed the tracker on her belt. Bruce called up the location history that was stored in the computer receiving the signal. The last logged location was just south of the warehouses near the docks on the north-east side of the city, close to Amusement Mile, one of the Joker's favourite places in Gotham.

He tried calling her again on his normal cell phone. Still no answer.

"Come on, Eleanor," he breathed as he hit redial.

When she didn't answer the third time, he returned the phone to his pocket and headed towards the elevator that would take him upstairs. Blaze was waiting for him as the hidden door sighed open. The husky looked up at him expectantly, but all Bruce could do was scratch him behind his ears and continue on his path upstairs.

Part of Bruce wanted to put the cape and cowl back on and follow the GPS signal to that alley to make sure Eleanor was okay, but part of his mind, the larger and more rational part told him to wait until morning to see if she came back or if she called. This wasn't the first time she had vanished and left her GPS tracers behind. She could be perfectly fine. Eleanor was dealing with a lot right then; maybe she just needed some space, maybe she just wanted to be alone. If it had something to do with the nanomachines, she would call if it got too bad, if she wanted help. But if Shauna really had given up Eleanor's identity to the Joker, she could be in trouble. The fact that her last known location was so close to Amusement Mile didn't help settle his mind at all. What if the Joker had gotten his hands on her?

Bruce wasn't worried for the safety of his identity then—he knew Eleanor wouldn't give him up. He was worried for her because of that. The Joker would put her through hell trying o get the information from her, but she wouldn't give him anything. Because of the nanomachines, Eleanor could take a lot of punishment, but they didn't know how much. They hadn't done any testing for her pain thresholds. She would likely get herself killed protecting him.

But he couldn't be sure the Joker even had her.

Bruce sat on his bed when he reached his room and Blaze curled himself into a ball at Bruce's feet, but he didn't appear any more tired than Bruce felt.

All Bruce could hope at that moment was that morning brought news from Eleanor, and if it didn't… well, then he would have to go and find her.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Don't Trust Me – 3oh!3

So I was going for the cartoon, more jovial Joker, but I've been watching a lot of **Chuck **lately, so it may have come out a bit more serious. Don't ask where that connection comes from, but that's why the Joker may not sound like the Joker. Maybe I just wanna write spy stuff. Ha, yeah right. I do want to write a **Chuck **fanfiction, but I don't know if I'm going to do that. I have so many other fics to write first.

Anyways, this one came pretty easily, so that's a good sign. We've still got a ways to go with this fic.

Enjoy.

There were a lot of questions in this chapter, weren't there?

* * *

**Next Chapter: Buried in Oblivion; The Joker. **


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Buried in Oblivion

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Fifteen: Buried in Oblivion; The Joker.

* * *

The room wasn't very big or wide, but it was tall. Eleanor could put one foot on either of the long walls if she strained the length of chain running between her ankles, and if she lay down, she could almost touch either end of the room as well with her pointed toes and outstretched arms; it was almost like a closet. If she was standing, however, her head didn't come anywhere near the ceiling. There was one small door, high up on the wall to her left, but she hadn't been there long enough to know what they were going to use it for, other than getting her in and out of the room. Her wrists were bound as well as her ankles and there was tape over her mouth, tape someone had drawn a big, crooked smile on with red permanent marker; Eleanor could still smell it. Another length of chain ran from her ankles, up and out the door and it was affixed to something. The one saving grace was that, when she was alone in that room, she didn't have to keep her Darkshade disguise in place. She could relax until they came for her. They may know who she was, but that didn't mean they needed to know what she really looked like. She wasn't going to give them anything they didn't already have.

Currently, she had wedged herself into the farthest corner from the door with her knees pulled up to her chest and her wrist draped over them. The back of her head was sticky with dried blood, and it was matted in her hair, but the wound had closed, as had the scrapes along her face and hands. Minor wounds from being dragged around an alley and tossed into a tiny space, most likely. Eleanor wasn't scared yet, but the Joker hadn't even started with her. She'd woken up in the closet and had no memory of how she'd got from the alley to that small room.

But she hadn't spent that much time thinking about it. She was a hostage; there was nothing she could do about it, not yet, not that she could see. So Eleanor curled a little tighter into a ball and tried to find a halfway comfortable way to sit as she waited for whatever the Joker had planned and she wondered if anyone had considered coming to look for her yet. With her history of running off by herself, she doubted it. She couldn't have been gone that long, anyway. Eleanor knew someone would be out soon, looking, but she couldn't call. The Joker had taken her utility belt and with it, all her gadgets and her phone.

_Good job on this one,_ she told herself in the displeased voice she had so often used with Bruce.

At least they hadn't taken her coat. The closet was by no means warm. Though it was difficult with bound hands, she managed to wrap the material around her tighter and savour what warmth came from it; she may not have been frightened currently, but she knew there were bad things in her future.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat," someone sang outside the closet. It sounded like Harley Quinn. She had a higher voice than the other henchwoman, than Queen of Spades, and she liked to sing more. "How I wonder who you are! Because once we do find out, Mista J will be happyyyyyyyyyyy!" Harley knocked sharply on the wall and then opened the small door they'd thrown her through. "It's chow time, Darky-Poo!" Her painted face appeared in the murky dark—Eleanor shifted back to Darkshade regardless of how hard it would be to see for normal eyes—and she gave a goofy grin before tossing something that resembled a sandwich on the floor. "Eat up! You're going to need your strength for when my Puddin' comes to see ya!"

"Sure," Eleanor mumbled against the tape. She gave Harley Quinn a weak smile and then looked down at the now dirty sandwich sitting at her feet. Oddly enough, she wasn't hungry. She raised her hands to her face and grabbed a corner of the duct tape. After taking a deep breath, she yanked the tape off, expecting it to hurt. It didn't. It tingled, but didn't hurt. "Nanomachines," Eleanor mumbled. She should really stop being surprised by the modifications. It may not have been much freedom, but having the tape off her lips made her feel a little better, a little more in control.

When the door had closed again and she was sure no one was coming back immediately, Eleanor dropped the Darkshade appearance and let her head fall back against the wall with a sigh. She didn't know where she was, or what time it was, or if anyone was looking for her, but she did know that she wasn't looking forward to seeing the Joker, up close and personal. Fear started to creep into her gut then and it spread out along her nerves; suddenly, she was freezing and no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in her coat, she couldn't get that shiver in her spine to go away.

"Fuck," she huffed.

* * *

Morning came and went without any word from Eleanor and she still wasn't answering her phone. There was something wrong. Granted, she could be on her way home right now, but Bruce knew the chances of that were unlikely. The last time she'd disappeared, she'd been with Shauna for a while, and the engineer had promised to call Bruce if something similar ever happened again. Of everyone outside the manor, Shauna was the only who knew Eleanor's potential for hostility and instability and also that the only person Eleanor would want in that case was Bruce. Bruce had every faith Shauna would call him, but she hadn't. Eleanor was not with her and she wouldn't go anywhere else. There was no one else who knew who and what she was.

_What she is? _Bruce scoffed at the thought. _She's still a human. She's still Eleanor. _He ran the fingers of one hand back through his hair and sighed yet again. He almost yawned, but instead, he directed his attention back to the massive computer screen in front of him, the detective's attention momentarily banishing all thoughts of tiredness.

Bruce had only managed three hours of sleep the night before, after which, he'd risen, dressed and descended back into the depths of the cave where he'd run martial arts drills, experimented with some new gadgets and tried meditating to find some measure of peace that would allow some more sleep. Blaze had followed him around since he'd woken up; the husky seemed a little lost without Eleanor to follow everywhere and Bruce didn't mind. The dog stayed out of the way mostly, watching as Bruce had moved about the cave and tinkered with the various bits of machinery. The improvements Bruce had been making to the cave were coming along well, but nothing he did held his attention for very long and he always had one eye on the computers behind him, watching the screen and waiting for a blip from the GPS, or noise from the Joker, something. Alfred had come and gone several times, always with food, water or coffee and a plea to come upstairs or take a break. The occasional phone message also accompanied the old butler, but Bruce largely ignored those. He hadn't really come out of the Batman headspace, nor was he like to until there was some word, until he had some sign.

Not only had Eleanor gone missing, but all noise from the Joker and his henchwomen had stopped. There hadn't been anything huge as of yet, but always whispers, always something Bruce could use to keep track of the villains, something he could use to help locate their base of operations. But there was nothing, and he knew something big was coming.

Bruce settled back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The cave was eerily quiet in the middle of the day, when the bats were asleep and the only noise was the whir of his computers. Blaze whined softly and pressed his nose against Bruce's fingers, nudging until the vigilante caved and scratched Blaze behind the ears. The dog settled himself on the ground, leaning heavily into the chair and Bruce twisted his fingers into Blaze's thick fur.

"I know," he said. "You don't like it any better than I do."

Blaze gave a little yip and licked Bruce's fingers.

* * *

Being hauled out of her closest had not been fun. The chains had rattled and screeched as they'd slid against the borders of the small door, and her head and shoulders had scraped and banged painfully as she'd ascended feet first. She'd folded her arms in tight against her chest so they didn't catch in the rather narrow doorway, but she couldn't stop herself from hitting the ground on the other side hard; the nanomachines weren't powerful enough to stop a wave of pain lacing up her back as her tailbone struck concrete. It cleared quickly however, and she was able to take in the two muscle-bound idiots pulling at her chain.

"Thanks Tweedle-Dee and Tweele-Dum," she sneered. "Do you think you might be able to be a little gentler next time? That's not a short fall."

In response, she got a grunt from one and a snort from the other and then they started dragging her across the ground towards another door, a normal-sized one this time with a metal door. Inside, she could see the Joker moving around and the fear clutched at her insides again, turning them to ice and sucking all the breath from her lungs. She knew her eyes were wide and she could feel that her jaw was clenched, but it was all secondary to the need to _not _be in that room. The Joker was laughing quietly to himself or at something they couldn't see; Eleanor did not want to go any farther, but she had no choice. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum kept dragging. The Joker seemed to be taking extra precautions with her, maybe because she worked with Batman, but she didn't see any feasible way of escaping with all her limbs bound and if they kept dragging her around, she didn't see any way of fighting back, either.

Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum hauled her into the middle of the room where the Joker was before dropping her feet and then leaving. Eleanor, who had donned the Darkshade disguise when she'd first felt her chains moving, rolled over to try and get an eye on the clown-themed villain and found him crouched right beside her head, a rubber chicken covered in dried blood in one hand and a very sharp-looking knife in the other. He pressed the blade against her cheek, the edge of laughter escaping his lips and the metal biting into her flesh. Eleanor just narrowed her eyes.

"Do you have anything to tell me?" he asked in a high-pitched voice.

Eleanor remained silent and just kept her black eyes focused on the Joker, as much as she wanted to look away; her gut reaction was to curl into a ball and beg to be left alone and she had a sneaking suspicion she would end up there before her up and close and personal interaction with the demented clown was through. The Joker's smile faltered at her silence however and he dropped onto his butt beside her, folding his arm over his knobby knees and tapping his toes to some tune only he could hear.

"Well we're not going to get anywhere if you don't play along," he said, gesturing with the knife. When he still didn't get a response, the Joker pressed the knife to her cheek again, the metal biting in deeper and the first drops of blood seeping over the edge. "Who is Batman?"

Her eyes darted briefly to what she could see of the knife; it was so deep into her cheek that it was starting to hurt. A lot. "I don't know," she said simply, doing her best to make the words sound like the truth. "I just show up and do my job."

The Joker barked a laugh, the knife biting farther into Eleanor's cheek; she felt it hit the bone and fought not to scream, but if he didn't remove the knife soon, her skin would being to grow over it and it would hurt more coming out than going in, that was for certain. Thankfully, the knife fell away as the Joker rose to his feet, cackling. Not-so-thankfully, his dark eyes watched her skin knit back together and he was down on his knees again, smearing the blood away from where the cut should have been.

"Oh! What's this now?" The Joker shrieked in delight, the rubber chicken flopping about like, well, an over-excited rubber chicken. "We are going to have _fun, _Darkshade, especially if you won't tell me who is behind those stupid little bat ears, oh yes we will."

The words would have been stupid coming out of any other mouth, but somehow, that demented smile made them evil. Eleanor shivered in her chains and rolled onto her back to stare at the very grimy ceiling. It was a better view than the Joker's face, but he didn't let her enjoy it at all.

His long fingers wrapped around her neck as he straddled her chest; she was still surprised by the strength in his skinny limbs and digits. The chicken's head had flopped back to reveal something she could have sworn was a vegetable peeler and the blade, sharpened beyond the needs of any carrot or potato, scraped along her nose, bringing a layer of skin with it. As the skin grew back, the Joker laughed.

"Who is the Batman?" he asked again.

"I don't know," was Eleanor's reply, but there was no emotion behind it.

Eleanor had decided that, since she was going to be tortured regardless of what she said unless it was the truth, it would be best to try and think of something else—anything else. Something comforting. Something that made her happy.

She had no idea how well that would work.

_Eleanor was floating on a large air mattress, her eyes closed and her body rocking with the soft waves formed in the pool. The sun was warm on her face and she could hear the leaves rustling in a delightful breeze; the fingers of one hand trailed in the mild water beneath her._

_ She was calm. _

_ She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this calm. Certainly not since Bruce had reappeared in Gotham. Certainly not since Eleanor had become entangled in Bruce's life. It was nice, but it was… impossible. To just lie there, floating and relaxing while there were people in need of protecting was impossible. She was a masked hero of Gotham City. She couldn't just… relax._

_ No, this was a different kind of torture. Self-induced and incredibly more scarring than anything the Joker could do to her body._

_ Yet she remained, floating._

_ "Why did I end up here?" she asked. "I was trying to think of something, someplace that made me happy." _

_ A second air mattress appeared and with it, the scenery of a place that made her happy and the one person who simultaneously made her the happiest person alive and filled with a desire to scream and rave. _

_ "Some part of you isn't happy unless you're conflicted about something."_

_ Eleanor turned her head to the side to smile at Bruce. "Oh? You know me that well?" she asked, meaning it to be sarcastic. _

_ "You're doing it even now, in your own fantasy." The billionaire started to float away, towards the opposite end of the pool behind Wayne Manor. "You chose a life of confliction when you asked to help Batman protect Gotham."_

_ "You chose the life too." Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Eleanor cut him off, as was her way. "And don't give me that crap about how it chose you." She sat up on the air mattress and crossed her legs underneath her, wiggling slightly as her balance shifted. "You could have done a million things to get back at the criminals in Gotham. You didn't have to develop a vigilante alter-ego. You have all the money in the world—you could have done _anything."

_The look Bruce gave her was one he had given her many times in real life, so in her fantasy world, it was perfect. "We hardly need to have this fight here."_

_ "You're right. I'm sure there are many things we can conflict about." _

_ "Of course, but you'll win all the arguments. I am, after all, a figment of your very active imagination." _

_ "I should think that's a plus, but it's really no fun arguing with yourself, although I know you well enough that I'm sure I could make some pretty realistic attempts at your side of the conversation."_

_ "I have no doubt of that, Ellie."_

_ Eleanor decided to pursue some conversations anyway, to pass the time. It wasn't like she had anywhere exciting to be, after all. If her senses were still correct in this fantasy world of hers, the Joker was busy cutting patterns into the flesh of her stomach and watching them heal while she continually muttered about how she didn't know who Batman really was. Talking to herself would be an excellent continued distraction._

_ "Are you out looking for me?" she asked. She had to raise her voice so Bruce could hear, for he had drifted almost completely to the other end of the pool._

_ "Not yet. You've run off before. How could I be sure you hadn't just had another fit?"_

_ Eleanor shrugged, a lot calmer about the situation than she would have been in real life. "That makes sense. I assure you, I'm not in the middle of another fit, Bruce. I have been captured and am currently being tortured by the Joker." _

_ "I know that here, but there's no way for me to know that in real life."_

_ "I know, but you'll figure out eventually. You're smart. I have ever faith you'll come and save me like the damsel I currently am."_

_ "Eleanor," Bruce said. Eleanor's eyes had dropped to the water and she was contemplating jumping in. "You are many things, but a damsel in distress is not one of them. You are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself," she heard him say as she slipped under the water._

That may be, _she thought as the water around her began to heat up. _But you'll come and save me anyway.

_As her fingers touched the bottom of the pool, the water reached the temperature of blood and when she inhaled a lungful of water, it burned the tissue of her lungs and she snapped back into reality, the gruesome nature of the situation too much for her to mentally escape from any longer._

* * *

Shauna was marvelling at how boring daytime television was and picking at a bowl of banana-flavoured ice cream when she received a visitor. As he was the last person she really expected to see, she allowed herself a moment to stare at him, stunned, even going so far as to let her mouth drop open a fraction of an inch and her pale blue eyes to grow wide; she'd been watching soap operas, maybe she was getting a bit overdramatic.

"Hello Shauna. How are you feeling?"

"Well," she said as Bruce Wayne settled himself into the chair by her bedside. "That really depends on who you ask. The doctors all say I've recovering nicely, but I still feel like shit." Her normally bright face dulled and something akin to horror flickered through her eyes. Shauna was still having nightmares about her time in the Joker's care; she could still feel him cutting her, still hear him laughing, still hear those blasted hyenas laughing as his henchwomen composed songs that she would remember until she died as the songs she thought would be the last things she ever heard. "I can barely stand to be alone unless to TV is on," she muttered, more to herself. When she remembered Bruce was sitting there, she looked up into his blue eyes and forced herself to smile. "I'm fine. How are you Bruce?"

His perfect, mindless countenance, the face that she now knew was the real mask, faltered and she saw what could have been worry beneath. Shauna may not have known Bruce Wayne that well, but she did know there were very few things that could ruffle his stoic nature.

"What's happened to Eleanor?" she asked, voice filled with a little more growl than she had intended.

Bruce didn't make any motions to answer.

Shauna did growl then, and in a very Eleanor-like way, pulled her lips back over her teeth. "WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO HER?" she yelled. As the last note reverberated in her throat, Shauna knew it had been a mistake to yell. There would be nurses running in seconds.

Sure enough, the plump woman with the greying hair who had been tending Shauna since she'd woken up after surgery appeared in the doorway; she was much more agile than she looked. "What the devil is going on in here?" she asked in a voice that said she wasn't used to having disruptions in her hospital.

"Sorry," Shauna managed sheepishly. "Just overreacting. Pain, I think."

The nurse narrowed her eyes at Bruce, sitting there in the chair and smiling his million-dollar smile—or would that be billion-dollar smile?—and then bustled past him to turn those sharp grey eyes to the machine that regulated Shauna's pain medication. "Everything is in order here, dear. I think it'd be best if you tried to get some sleep." Again, those eyes turned towards Bruce.

Because she had yet to find out what had happened to her best friend, Shauna jumped to the defence. "He'll leave soon, I promise. It's just my boss here, had to make sure I was still in one piece. Delicate projects for Wayne Enterprises, and all that." Shauna tried to look innocent, to make her story believable—wrapped up and confined to bed as she was, that wasn't hard.

The nurse took a second look at Bruce and her eyes widened as she recognized him. "Oh, Mr. Wayne." She looked a little conflicted between her own desires and her responsibilities as a nurse for a moment, but in the end, her job-oriented mind won out. "It's refreshing to see a boss concerned with the well-being of his employees, but really, Ms. Messer here had to get some rest."

"I understand," Bruce said in a nonchalant voice. "I won't be much longer."

After casting another appraising look around the room, the nurse bustled away and Shauna and Bruce levelled their eyes at each other once more. The injured engineer leaned forward slightly, one hand wrapping tightly around the railing.

"What happened to her?" she asked again, a new desperation audible in her words.

Bruce dropped all pretence of being the absent-minded billionaire and sank farther into the chair. Shauna, who knew his most important secret, was still surprised that she could see beneath the carefully constructed masks and walls, even if it was just a crack. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Or, rather, I'm not sure."

"She's vanished, hasn't she?"

Shauna collapsed back against the mound of pillows and closed her eyes; there were tears pressing at the back of her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. Or, she didn't want to anyway. Her body had other ideas. The liquid started dribbling down her cheeks and she was left crying silently in front of Bruce Wayne, her boss, Batman and the man she really, really wanted to be furious with but couldn't find the gumption to pull off that emotion.

"Yes," Bruce said. "It's been almost twenty-four hours since I last saw her. I was hoping she'd stopped here to see you, but…"

"Bruce," Shauna said, her voice barely deformed by the tears in her voice. "I told you I would call if I saw her, even if I was blindingly mad at you, I would call. Eleanor is my best friend. I'm not going to let her get herself killed because of it."

"I am sorry for doubting you, Shauna."

She waved it off, the breath she inhaled shaking slightly. "Don't be. You care about her, Bruce. You are allowed to do reckless things when it comes to the people you care for." The auburn-haired engineer laughed to herself at the idea of Bruce Wayne doing something reckless. When she turned to say something else to the man in question however, he was gone, vanished in a moment of Batman-quality silence.

"Damn vigilantes," she muttered.

* * *

"My my, Mista J certainly went to town on you."

"But where are the cuts?"

"I have _no _idea Queeny! It's simply a mystery."

Queeny took up the cue and started humming. "Mysteryyyyyyyy," she sang once she reached the appropriate spot in the tune. "You should probably clean her up before we put her back in that closet, Harl," the Queen of Spades said. The hyenas, who were currently chewing on some raw steaks in the corner of the torture chamber, paused in their mastication of the meat to bark in agreement.

Eleanor blinked her heavy eyelids and tried to make sense of the scene in front of her. She was, as expected, uninjured but sore. The Joker had broken several of her fingers at some point and they had taken longer to heal than the cuts had; her right hand kept shuttering with random muscles spasms. Thankfully, noting the Joker had done had been enough to break her of the Darkshade disguise. For some reason though, she was having trouble seeing clearly and thus, making sense of anything. Harley Quinn, The Queen of Spades and the hyenas who were growing very rapidly were all blurs of colour, moving about and making a lot of noise.

After a moment more of the chattering, Harley Quinn dropped to her knees in front of Eleanor, a foul-smelling rag dangling in front of her face. The henchwoman started mopping up the blood that had dried to Eleanor's skin.

"I would like to know how it is she isn't cut, I would," Queeny said. She also settled herself in front of Eleanor, but there was something shiny and likely sharp in one hand. "Do you think I could cut her?"

"Now Queeny," Harley said in her best scolding voice, "your never-ending quest to inflict violence on people aside, how do you think my Puddin' is going to feel when you make a mess of his freshly clean plaything?"

"Just a small cut."

Something in the Queen of Spades' voice scared Eleanor almost as much as the Joker. It was if the act—even the potential act—of causing pain excited her, as if it was the only thing that mattered. Maybe it was. The Joker and his henchwomen were all barking mad. Eleanor did not want the Queen of Spades cutting on her.

Unfortunately, Harley's refusals to let Queeny's knife touch skin were weak.

The blade bit into Eleanor arm and she felt the blood drip down, but she had no energy left to even care that it stung or that when the rag passed over it, it burned. She did, however, hear the gasps of intrigue and delight when the cut healed itself.

"Oh, she's _fascinating_," Harley squealed.

The hyenas barking loudly were the last thing Eleanor heard before she finally slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

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Buried in Oblivion—Into Eternity  
The Joker—The Steve Miller Band

I have really, really, REALLY got to update this thing more than once a month. UGH. I apologize to everyone. I will attempt to get this thing finished before the year is out, anyway. Oh, the problem with having too many fanfiction projects on the go. Never again, I tell you. Never again will I have five or more on the go at once. Maybe two.

Sorry, I've gone on the mad hunt for Mass Effect Collector's Editions. I've checked out for the last little bit, but I'm back. If anyone knows where I could get a Region One Mass Effect Limited Collector's Edition, please lemme know!

Torturing your character isn't fun. It's hard to write and it's stressful, which is why this particular chapter took so long. Of course, that is just another excuse. I promise I will update faster. I want to get this one done.

Anyways, enjoy.

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**Next Chapter: Of All the Things You've Done Wrong. **


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Of All The Things

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You  
**Chapter Sixteen: Of All the Things You've Done Wrong.

* * *

Eleanor was exhausted. So exhausted in fact, that she could barely remain upright and if there hadn't been a wall readily available, she would have been forced to lie down; even the effort of sitting upright against the wall was causing her muscles to periodically spasm.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

She was injured. No amount of staring at the cuts on the inside of her arms was making them heal completely either, and Eleanor didn't know why. The cuts The Queen of Spades and her cards had made had been put there several hours ago and they had yet to disappear or even fade beyond a scab. They were starting to itch and more than that, the sight of those scabs scared Eleanor.

It had taken a while, but she had finally adjusted to the fact that she healed quickly and completely, that she could take a beating and keep going, but now… now that wasn't working. And if the nanomachines couldn't heal her anymore, what else couldn't they do? What else had or would fail? She wasn't sure she wanted to find out in the face of torture, in a situation where she could very likely be injured beyond repair, where she could possibly die. But it wasn't like she had a choice. She couldn't exactly explore the limitations of the nanomachines locked in a closet as she was.

The only thing she could think that might be causing the bizarre behaviour was because she was scared, terrified of what was going to happen to her, that she might not be able to hold onto the secrets she was so determined to keep, that the Joker might find a way to make her spill everything she knew and endanger the people she cared about most, and that fear was inhibiting the nanomachines from doing what they did. Even thinking about the possible repercussions of that made her heart race and her breath thick in her throat.

She was going to die in that dingy little close or at the hands of the Joker. She was going to die because her fear was going to stop the nanomachines from healing her, from keeping her in one piece. The more she thought about it, the more it went from possibility to certainty.

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of something happy, something that would make her feel anything but scared and that might kick the nanomachines into gear, but nothing would come. She tried thinking of her family, but all that brought was the knowledge that her mother was dead and that the Joker had done it and her father was now alone. She tried thinking of her friends, but all she could remember was the horrified look on Adam's face when he'd thought the worst when Shauna had vanished and the hollow look in Shauna's eyes after she had escaped from the Joker's clutches. Eleanor tried to think of Bruce, but that just brought the worry that he wouldn't find her in time if he found her at all. She tried to think of Bruce before she had known he was Batman, when her only worry was dating Bruce Wayne, but that seemed like another lifetime. She tried to think of the way she felt when she was in Bruce's arms, but that just made her worry that she would never get to feel that again.

When she opened her eyes several moments later, there were tears streaming down her cheeks and a fine trembling had worked its way through her body in addition to the muscles systems. Eleanor pulled her knees up to her chest and slid her handcuffed hands over them, effectively holding herself in a ball as she tried to stave off the shaking.

She hated feeling weak and useless, kept hostage as she was. She hated knowing there was nothing she could do to help stop the Joker except do her best to keep Bruce's secret, to keep the identity of the Batman hidden from those who would use it to hurt him, to hurt everyone he cared about. She focused on her desire to protect people, to protect Bruce and everyone else in her life, but she couldn't stop shaking, she couldn't fight off the fear.

Eleanor huddled in the corner and cried. She could feel her mind slipping into the dark place it had gone when she had been under house arrest after being framed by the Doppelganger, when she felt like everything was unravelling and all the rationality had gone out of the situation. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Again, rationality couldn't really apply in this situation… could anything involving the Joker be called rational, even in the loosest sense? The laughter continued to leak out of her mouth and Eleanor rocked herself slightly, trying to find some measure of calm, something to settle her mind before the voice associated with the nanomachines appeared and took whatever calm she had left because she knew, as soon as she heard that voice, she would start screaming and probably never stop.

* * *

She was running out of rooftops.

Her normal routines had had to be put on hold quite suddenly and now she was being forced to flee from the Joker's henchwomen as they destroyed their way through the city; okay, it wasn't exactly destruction on a grand scale or anything, more like glorified vandalism. What exactly their purpose was—if they had one—was unclear. All Catwoman knew was she had to get out of there and fast, lest she wanted to join those who were pinned under chucks of concrete blown out of the sides of buildings by The Queen of Spades and her cards. What was really confusing about the situation was that the Joker was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't like he was _always _there when his lackeys were, but usually where Harley Quinn and The Queen of Spades went, the Clown Prince of Crime followed.

_It isn't like it really matters, _Catwoman told herself. _Especially if I don't make it out of the blast zone._

She leapt gracefully over the gap between roofs, landing smoothly on all four feet and taking off just as smoothly a brief second later, headed for the next building, but she barely made it three steps. An explosion rocked the building she was standing on, the kinetic energy from whatever The Queen of Spades had jammed into the side of the building obviously having hit a support pillar or something. The building didn't give, but the shockwaves moving throughout the stone sent Catwoman off her feet and over the edge of the roof.

"Hmm… what have we here?" a voice yelled up from the ground below.

The roof wasn't that high, but Catwoman still wasn't keen on dropping the couple storeys that were between her and solid ground, even if she would land on her feet. She fought to pull herself up, back onto the roof, but something wrapped around her ankle and pulled her down and she suddenly didn't have a choice anymore. She held on until the last possible minute, but Harley Quinn had found something to use as a whip and it had coiled around Catwoman's leg. The deceptively strong and hyperactive henchwoman yanked hard on the rope and Catwoman was forced to let go of the edge of the roof and plummet towards the ground, her clawed gloves scraping along the concrete until she ran out of wall and landed hard on her feet on the sidewalk; she heard the heel of one of her boots crack and cursed loudly.

"Oh naughty kitty!" Harley giggled.

Catwoman hissed and threw her foot back at Harley, the sole of her boot connecting with the clown girl's stomach, the heel, which wasn't the broken one, digging into the flesh. Harley stumbled backward and Catwoman attempted to make a break for it, but The Queen of Spades tackled her back to the ground, the exposed skin of her cheeks scraping against the sidewalk.

But suddenly, the weight of The Queen of Spades was gone and there was a shadow blocking the light of the street lamp. Catwoman couldn't explain how she knew, but there was no question in her mind that that shadow belonged to Batman. Sure enough, a second later, the spiked gauntlet of the Caped Crusader reached down and hauled Catwoman to her unbalanced feet. She pulled her boots off and held them in one hand while she slowly took a few steps back from the scene of the fight that was now taking place. For a brief second, she watched Batman moved through his martial arts skills with an almost feline grace before she turned on her bare heel and darted towards the nearest alley.

Again, her escape was delayed by the concussive force of kinetically charged objects striking stone.

The wall beside her exploded, a chunk of concrete hitting Catwoman in the side and sending her sprawling. Not one to ever remain in an undignified position for long, the thief got to her bare feet and fell into a stance, prepping for the coming attack.

The Queen of Spades was many things, but a martial artist was not one of them, and that was coming from someone who didn't necessarily have a lot of talent in some area either. Her punches and kicks were wild and unfocused, which almost cancelled out the strength behind them; like Harley Quinn, the slight woman was stronger than she appeared. The real danger in fighting her however, were the pebbles, stones and bits of building she kept kinetically charging with her magic gloves.

"You know," Catwoman said as she ducked under another wild swing. "I am getting really tired of you blowing things up in my face."

She cracked her whip at The Queen of Spades, the edge coiling around the woman's arm and pulling her forward, off balance. Catwoman's kicked connected solidly with the side of the woman's face and she flew backwards, landing with a thud, unconscious.

Harley Quinn bellowed when she saw and disengaged herself from fighting Batman to run at Catwoman, her overly large hammer marked "Whack-A-Bat" dragging along behind her. She attempted to swing said hammer, but Batman grabbed the head and pulled it from her grasp, tossing it into the now abandoned building behind him and effectively drawing Harley's attention once again.

Catwoman used the presented opportunity to turn and run.

* * *

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Shauna screamed, her bandaged hands raised in front of her like she wanted to strike him but knew better than to do so. "IF YOU HADN'T GIVEN HER THOSE… THOSE THINGS SHE NEVER WOULD HAVE GONE OUT THERE AFTER YOU! IF YOU HADN'T LET HER HELP YOU FIGHT THE DOPPELGNAGER, SHE WOULD STILL BE HERE THINKING BATMAN WAS JUST SOME GUY! IT IS YOUR FAULT SHE'S—" Shauna stopped yelling when she realized that her words were having no effect on Bruce at all. He was standing there, in the library of Wayne Manor, looking at her, but the stoic look on her face hadn't changed since she had begun her tirade several moments ago. "Aren't you going to say anything?" she gasped.

"What can I say?" he asked.

Shauna dropped onto the couch behind her and was instantly glad she did. She was in that limbo between being completely healed and still needing to be in a hospital, so her body was sore and tired and standing for long periods of time just made it worse. Yelling wasn't helping either, but these were yells that had to be vocalized. She sighed heavily. "You could say that you're sorry, that you know it's your fault, that you were wrong to give her the nanomachines you watched destroy someone else. You could say you're scared and worried and that you want her back as much as I do. You could say a million things Bruce, but you're just standing there, looking at me like you don't care."

"I care," he replied, his voice deepening into the timbre normally reserved for Batman.

Shauna raised her hands, but the defensive posture did not match the offensive look on her face. "I'm sure you do, although I don't know for sure, because you never actually show any real evidence of that in public, but that's not my place to argue. Eleanor obviously knows how you feel because she's here more than anywhere else and if she's not here, she's at your side somewhere else. But that doesn't change the fact that you enabled her crazy desire to become a vigilante and run around every night risking her life to help you achieve your grand schemes for Gotham, whatever they are. It is your fault she's out there now, likely in the Joker's hand getting tortured for information about you." Shauna's blue eyes narrowed and she leaned forward slightly on the couch, the fingers of one hand digging into the fabric on the armrest until her knuckles began to whiten. "Information she won't give up. INFORMATION SHE'LL GIVE HER LIFE FOR BECAUSE FOR SOME GOD DAMNED REASON SHE LOVES YOU!"

The silence that followed the outburst was thicker than before and more dangerous. Shauna hadn't meant to start yelling again, but once she started, she often found it hard to stop, and even though it was hard to meet Bruce's eyes after those words left her mouth, she forced her gaze to remain straight and her lips to remain in a tight line. She wasn't backing down.

Bruce still didn't respond however.

Shauna launched back to her feet and crossed the room. This time, his fists did bang against his chest and she screamed when it hurt, but kept smacking him. "WHY AREN'T YOU OUT THERE LOOKING? SHE WOULDN'T REST IF IT WAS YOU OUT THERE! SHE WOULDN'T STOP UNTIL SHE FOUND YOU!" The screams mingled with tears and Shauna collapsed against Bruce, the effort behind her anger too much for her still-fragile body to handle. The billionaire caught her and lowered her into a chair as she mumbled "Why haven't you saved her?" over and over again.

* * *

Eventually, Shauna cried herself unconscious, too exhausted to fight and scream anymore. When he knew she wouldn't fight him anymore, Bruce gently lifted the woman in his arms and headed upstairs, giving Alfred and meaningful glance as she passed and knowing the butler would bring what was needed from the vast stores around the house. Bruce laid Shauna on the soft bed in one of the many guest rooms and then sat in a nearby chair to make sure she would be all right until Alfred came to the rescue.

Everything she had said was true, at least to some degree. Eleanor had become a vigilante because of him and she had been injected with the nanomachines because of him, but she hadn't left him much choice. There may have been another option, but all the other ones Bruce could think of involved too much time to execute, time Eleanor wouldn't have been willing to wait through. She had set her mind on helping Batman, even before she had known it was Bruce behind the mask, and he wasn't about to let her get herself killed when there was a way to keep her in one piece. He had known the risks of injecting her with the nanomachines; she had known the risk. Perhaps he should have waited just a little while longer until they were sure all the adverse side-effects were gone before he revealed his plan. He had known Eleanor would want the solution as soon as it was presented, but it was too late for what-ifs. All that mattered right then was finding her before the Joker damaged her beyond repair.

Bruce sighed and settled back into the chair. A cold nose met his hand as it draped over the side; Blaze had come in at some point and sat beside his de facto master. After getting a scratch behind the ears from Bruce however, the husky padded across the room and hopped up onto the bed to lie beside Shauna, someone else he probably knew pretty well. The young woman woke up at that point and looked around, confused, until her eyes found Bruce and one of her hands found the warmth of Blaze's fur. She looked down at the dog for a moment before turning her eyes back to Bruce.

"You can rest here as long as you like," he said. "Alfred will be up in a moment. He'll get you anything you need." Bruce got to his feet and made for the door before she started yelling again. Before he entered the hall however, he turned and levelled a serious gaze at her. "And I am doing everything I can short of storming every building in the city to find her, Shauna. I want her back."

He took in Shauna's wide-eyed stare before leaving her to whatever sleep she could gain and heading to the cave, his feet carrying him along the path without much effort on the part of the person they were attached to. The elevator rushed quickly towards the stone floors of the Bat Cave, the chilled air bringing his mind into sharper focus before he once again sat in front of the array of monitors and checked for any sign of Eleanor. When that proved as fruitless as every other time he looked, he turned to the news and his eyes around Gotham to see if Harley Quinn and the Queen of Spades were causing anymore trouble.

They weren't. But the nameless men who made up the bulk of the Joker's henchmen forces were. They were moving through downtown, headed towards the business distract of Gotham, faces covered in grotesque clown masks and tossing canisters filled with a green gas Batman knew all too well into shops and towards anyone unlucky enough to be walking down that street. Before anyone could have blinked, Bruce was up and moving, heading to the Batsuit to change and then to the Batmobile.

As the car rocketed towards Gotham City proper, Bruce tried to think of a reason for the Joker to be causing such chaos when he had Eleanor hostage, if there was a reason other than to cause mayhem and death. There may not have been a reason, but something nagging inside Batman's head told him there was, that the Joker wouldn't orchestrate attacks night after night without some sort of reasoning behind them. If only he could figure out what that reasoning was.

* * *

Eleanor was attempting to do the same thing, but the impending torture wasn't making it easy for her to keep her mind on track. She was once again in the grimy torture room, leaning against a wall covered in old blood and darker stains Eleanor didn't really want to identify. Her Darkshade disguise was back in place, but it was getting harder to hold it there; her mind almost felt divided on that matter alone. Half a brain for keeping her true appearance hidden and half a brain to try and get some information out of the Joker before he started trying to cut her into itty bitty pieces.

"Why do you keep sending your lackeys out into Gotham?" she stammered, her voice faint and a little raspy.

The Joker's ghastly smile appeared in front of her, followed by the glint of a short-bladed knife that looked a little rusty. "Why do you think, Lampshade?" He ran the tip of the blade along her cheek and she felt the metal bite in. She winced because it wouldn't heal past normal, just like the cuts on her arms. "To torture the Bat of course!" The Joker punctuated the exclamation by pushing the blade into her cheek, the tip poking through and grating against her teeth.

She forced herself not to scream, not yet. It had barely begun. There would be time to scream later. There would be plenty of time. She didn't have the mental capacity to escape anymore—what she would have given to be able to retreat to that pool, floating on that air mattress and talking to Bruce of her imagination—so there would be lots of pain to experience. "Wh-why torture him too? He's not-not gonna come after you. He'll know it's a trap!"

The Joker laughed, flecks of spit flying across Eleanor's face and the knife sliding farther through her cheek, almost until the point scraped against the teeth on the opposite side of her mouth. She swallowed a mouthful of blood and pressed herself tighter against the wall as if she could melt through it and escape another round of torture.

"I don't think so, oh darkiest of sidekicks! See, he may know it's a trap, but I think ol' Batsie will risk it knowing I have you."

Eleanor wanted badly to believe the same thing, but she knew Bruce was smarter than that. Sure, he would rescue her if he found the perfect time, the best opportunity to save her and take out the Joker, but what was the chance that was going to happen? She knew he would take down the Joker first, and… she was mostly okay with that. As the Joker pulled the knife out of her face and dragged it down her arm however, she began to revaluate that stance. The knife bit into the soft flesh at the bend of her elbow and she did scream, her nerves screaming and her muscles bunching around the blade making it hurt more. Throwing everything she could into the movement, Eleanor raised her feet and drove them into the Joker, sending him sliding back a couple feet, but leaving the knife in her arm.

Howling through clenched teeth, Eleanor bit down on the knife handle and pulled it from her arm. Blood welled up around the wound and she so badly wished it would heal before her eyes, especially because whatever came now would hurt worse because of her insubordination. Sure enough, the Joker approached, a bigger knife and nastier grin in tow. Instead of immediately beginning to cut however, he grabbed the chain attached to her feet and, using a hook on the wall, hoisted her up until she was upside down and the floor was a good foot and a half beneath her head.

"You should really learn to play nice," he sneered.

He put the edge of the knife against her stomach and pulled it across, the metal slicing through the remaining layers of clothing there and her skin like they were butter. Warm blood poured down over her chest and dribbled onto her chin, down the sides of her face to her already filthy hair. Eleanor screamed, the manacles around her wrists scraping against the floor as she struggled. Blood gushed from her mouth and she spat it on the floor, some of it splattering onto the Joker's shoes. The deranged villain's knife moved across her skin so many times until it just felt like fire drawing lines and the chill of the blade actually began to feel like a relief. When her stomach was sufficiently marked, he moved to her thighs and then her calves, none of the cuts except the first one on her stomach deep enough to be called anything more than a flesh wound.

All the while the Joker asked her the same question he had since he had begun torturing her several days ago.

"Who is the Batman?"

Eleanor could only scream in response.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Of All The Things You've Done Wrong—Neverending White Lights feat. Nathan Larson and Jason Martin.

AHAHAHAHAHAAH TWICE IN ONE MONTH I HAVE UPDATED THIS FIC.

Next up, three times a month. I don't even know if I can do that… maybe if I didn't have five fics to update.

This freaking fic is kicking my ass. It'll be like: "You know you wanna write Batman." And I'll be like: "Yeah, yeah I do." And then it'll be like: "AHAHAHA! TRICKED YOU! YOU CAN'T WRITE ME!" And then I'm like: "FUCK." And then I go watch something related to Batman that isn't Christopher Nolan's movies and that helps me write, but seriously. I have never had a fic be so difficult. The Chris Nolan movies, in case you're wondering, make me want to write my other Batman fics. And the other Batman media I end up watching tends to be stuff related to The Animated Series and that means… POLICE BLIMPS, BITCHES.

And I miss writing Star Trek. Not that that applies to most who read this fic.

I will stop babbling now.

By the way, there are nine chapters left. Let's see how long that takes me to finish… Probably less time once Arkham City comes out. I know that's not until October, but come on, this is me and my slow updating we're talking about. Although, let's hope I can finish it before October.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Trail of Blood; Right Place, Wrong Time. **


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Trail of Blood

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke****'****s****On****You  
**Chapter Seventeen: Trail of Blood; Right Place, Wrong Time.

* * *

Eleanor had no sense of time in her closet. She didn't know how long she'd been down there or what time of day it was and she didn't like being that disoriented. But that was really the least of her problems.

The vigilante was covered in scabs and bruises and she was pretty sure some her fingers were broken; she wasn't healing very well at all now and there were even a few cuts from the last time the Joker had come at her with her a knife that still wept blood. Her clothes were torn and she was sticky with a myriad of substances, only some of which she could identify and some of which she didn't even want to think about. Heavy blows from the Joker's fists and feet had left her eyes swollen almost completely shut, her left cheekbone shattered, her lips split and her nose likely hanging at some unsightly angle. It had been broken near the beginning of the whole ordeal and re-broken over and over as it healed. It wasn't healed now. Eleanor couldn't move without help and she was pretty sure her restraints were getting close to wearing through her skin down to her bones.

She had given up on being scared, on trying to mentally escape the torture sessions. The brief moments she'd been able to think about something else, to move back to that pool or to some other location hadn't brought her any respite and only made returning to reality that much more painful. Eleanor just sat in her closet and waited for the Joker, Harley Quinn or the Queen of Spades to show up and drag her out, knowing that she would never tell her secrets; if they hadn't broken her yet, she was sure they couldn't. She'd survived this much and hadn't talked. Maybe the Joker would get bored.

But then he might turn to someone else from Eleanor's life. Her father. Adam. Maybe he'd go after Shauna again. Maybe he'd try and capture Bruce Wayne—boy, would he meet with a surprise if he did that. Or maybe he'd just keeping torturing her, thinking that she'd talk eventually. Maybe he'd just kill her and be done with it. Whatever he did, Eleanor was sure she'd just have to hold on a little longer before Batman came to her rescue. Because she sure as hell wasn't getting out of here by herself.

She sighed and dropped her head back against the wall, the impact causing tremors to run through her broken and battered face and bringing new waves of pain with them. Eleanor would have screamed, but that would have hurt more and only brought unwanted attention so she closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass so she could try and get some sleep.

_**What **__**are **__**you **__**doing **__**still **__**sitting **__**here? **__**You **__**should **__**fight **__**with **__**everything **__**you **__**have. **__**Fight. **__**Stop **__**waiting **__**for **__**him. **__**Stop **__**waiting **__**to **__**be **__**saved. **__**Fight **__**with **__**everything **__**you **__**have **__**and **__**you **__**will **__**get **__**out **__**of **__**here.**_

_I don't have anything to fight with. I'm done._

_ **You ****are ****not ****done. ****You ****can ****get ****out ****of ****here ****by ****yourself ****and ****show ****everyone ****how ****powerful ****you ****are.**_

_I am not powerful. I'm broken. I'm tired and cold and broken. _

_ **Fight, ****you ****pathetic ****bitch. ****Stop ****moping ****around ****and ****get ****off ****you r****ass. ****He ****could ****escape ****from ****the ****Joker****'****s ****traps. ****Why ****can****'****t ****you? ****You****'****re ****not ****an ****ordinary ****person. ****You ****can ****overcome ****fear.****Y ou ****can ****break ****your ****bones ****and ****heal ****them. ****You ****would ****be ****unstoppable ****if ****you ****only ****got ****off ****your ****ass ****and ****fought ****back.**_

_I'm not healing. I'm broken. _

_ **Fight ****fight ****fight ****fight****fight****fight****fight****fight****fight****fight****—**_

Eleanor wanted to scream, but she didn't. Pain shot up her back from the base of her spine and out along her nerves, making her sit up straight and her whole body go rigid; she didn't have to look to know her skin was starting to bubble. Terse pants broke through her clenched teeth as she double over, her awkward position pulling at the manacles around her wrists and ankles and bringing more pain to the game. She began to shake again and she felt like she had lost control of her own body; she could taste tears pouring down her cheeks and new blood dripping from her open wounds.

But this was something she could control. That voice was part of her, was brought on by the nanomachines which were in her blood. The vigilante squeezed her eyes shut and dove inside her mind, looking for that last little measure of calm. She pictured it as being found near the metal box where she had locked all the secrets the Joker wanted, all the important information she knew, and as soon as she reached that blue aura, she felt better. She felt the pain recede. She stopped crying. She stopped bleeding. When she opened her cobalt eyes, she found all her wounds scabbed over and all the swelling marginally less and even though her bones were still broken, her body still aching and there was still the possibility that she might not make it out of this alive, Eleanor could have laughed.

When the Joker came for her an hour or so later and saw her improved state, he did laugh although Eleanor wasn't really sure why.

* * *

"Have you found any sign of her yet?"

Bruce looked down at Shauna, sitting in one of the squishy armchairs in front of the massive television. She had been at the mansion for a few days, refusing to leave until Eleanor was found and brought home safely and because Adam had had to return to work and she hated being cooped up alone in her apartment. Since she hadn't asked to see the Batcave or been overly intrusive into his night life, Bruce didn't really mind, but he was getting annoyed by the questions he received every time he crossed paths with the woman. Even so, he dropped onto the sofa so he could have a conversation with Shauna at eye level, running one hand back through his black hair as he did so.

"Yes, but before you get too excited, there's still a lot to be done." Shauna hadn't asked and Bruce didn't want to involve her in this more than she already was, but at the same time he knew he couldn't leave her without any information, so he gave her the bare minimum that she would accept.

"I'm not stupid," she breathed. "I'm so glad you finally have a lead. It's been far too long since she vanished." The blonde lifted her head and gave Bruce a small smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "Maybe this will all be over soon."

All Bruce could do was give a short nod.

He got to his feet and left Shauna to watch whatever movie or TV show she had been engrossed in before he'd walked into the room. His destination was the Batcave, as it had been every moment that wasn't something else that called for his attention. If he could have had his way, he wouldn't have bothered with any of the Wayne Enterprises problems, but it was necessary to keep up his public persona, even if said billionaire playboy was currently worried at the disappearance of his personal assistant and friend. And, of course, there had been that difficult conversation with Liam when he had had to tell him that Eleanor had gone missing. He had planned on coming up with some story about Eleanor's absence that wouldn't worry the recent widower, but he hadn't had a chance. Liam had called and asked where Eleanor was and why he hadn't heard from her; she had been calling almost every day to check on her father since the loss of his wife was still so new. Bruce had started with the story, but Liam told him to cut the crap and let him know the moment his daughter was safe again.

Bruce wasn't sure how to process the information that Liam might have figured everything out, even though it didn't appear as though he'd told anyone anything. The neurosurgeon only seemed concerned with getting Eleanor back, as well he should be. Bruce had promised Liam would be the first person to know and then, after a moment, had told him that he was doing everything he could, as were the police. All he had said in response was "okay" before he'd hung up.

That had only been yesterday, but it had felt like a lifetime ago.

The seat in front of the array of computers felt comfortable and familiar, but the vigilante known as The Batman couldn't think about that as he waited for the machine to reach the screen he needed. During the last few patrols, he had managed to get several tracers on the Joker's men and had been studying their movements for as long as he could before the little devices switched off; he couldn't risk having them on for too long, or they would figure out Batman was on to them and then they might move their whole operation.

Currently, three of the trackers were active and showing in a small grouping by the shipping warehouses in the southwest of the city. This same location had held a lot of activity over the last couple days and was in fact the lead he had told Shauna he'd had.

As soon as he was able, Bruce donned the costume that was more him than the suits he wore to the office, and hopped into the sleeker version of the Batmobile that he had only just completed—working with his hands always helped him think when he'd reached a dead end—and drove off to the dark towers of Gotham.

* * *

When Eleanor came back to consciousness after her latest beating, she found herself somewhere unfamiliar. She sat up quickly—too quickly obviously, as something in her side pulled tightly. When she touched the area, she found stitches of some thick, greasy thread, holding a particularly deep wound together. She could smell the alcohol that meant Harley and Queen of Spades were responsible for the medical attention. With bile building in the back of her throat, she examined the rest of her body and found several more areas where she'd been stitched together; obviously the boost in her healing had been temporary. Experimentally, she wiggled her limbs and appendages and found that she could move everything except some of her fingers and toes and it hurt like a bitch to move her left ankle; she was displeased to hear the jingle that meant she was still chained up. This was much better than she had expected.

The task of self-examination over, Eleanor turned her attention to her new surroundings, wondering briefly if she could even still be in the same building and if she was, why would the Joker drop her down a hole? The closet had been holding her fine. Maybe the burst of insubordination she'd showed at the beginning of her last session had made him mad enough to introduce her to a new level of hell. Or maybe—worse than anything he could have done to her—maybe, he had someone else to keep in that closet. She hoped it wasn't so.

The hole she was sitting in was almost perfectly round—maybe this had been a well at one point? Because there was definitely water sitting in the bottom. And it had definitely turned the dirt to mud, enough for her to sink into. The walls were also made of dirt, haphazardly lined with stones, many of which had come loose and fallen; she cautiously moved her hands around until her fingers found the smooth surface of one of the larger and flatter stones and then shifted so she was sitting on top of it. She didn't have quite enough space to spread her arms to either side. She was able to touch either side of the hole at the same time even though there was still a chain running between her manacles.

Eleanor looked up and was a little shocked to see how small the opening at the top looked. After squinting at it for a moment—which was difficult in the darkness and with swollen eyes—she realized it was partially covered by something. When she listened, she could faintly hear two or more people having a conversation and wondered what they would do if she called up to them. She decided she didn't really want to find out that badly.

Then another thought hit her: how the hell were they going to get her out of the hole?

Afraid that she wasn't going to find anything, she started feeling around again; even her enhanced sight couldn't penetrate the inky blackness that well. She found that the long chain between her feet was still there and as she followed its length, discovered that it was much longer now and led up the side of the hole. Wondering if the Joker's thugs would have been stupid enough to let it trail out into the open, Eleanor painfully got to her feet and stretched up, careful not to pull at her stitches too much. She couldn't feel the top of the chain, but she couldn't see it leaving the hole, either. It was probably affixed to the stone a few feet down from the top, close enough to still be accessible to those topside, but far enough from the edge that she wouldn't have been able to climb out unless she was in perfect health.

So, she sat back down on her stone and waited.

* * *

The trackers had led him to an as-suspected shipping warehouse. There were empty containers all over the place, which wasn't out of place in a disused building, but there was also fair evidence that there had been a lot of activity not related to shipping recently. Not to mention three heat signatures huddled behind one of the large metal boxes. But that was it. There was nothing else being picked up by the thermal scanner in his cowl other than rats; the Joker and his gang had moved their operation somewhere else. Batman wondered when the deranged clown had caught on. By the looks of things, it hadn't been that long ago.

Sitting on the rooftop across the street as he was, Batman had yet to be spotted by the lackeys in hiding and he was glad for that—it would make interrogating them that much easier. In his vast experience, people talked more when they were scared and he was good at scaring people.

Silent as a shadow, Batman rose to his feet and leapt from the building, spreading his cape out like the glider it could be. Sure enough, it caught the wind and the vigilante soared over his targets, the orange glow of Gotham serving to create an ominous shadow that covered the huddled goons and made them all raise eyes skyward, looking for the fabled Bat; beneath the mask, Bruce allowed himself a small grin as they clutched their automatic weapons tighter. They would be of little use.

As he turned back, Batman pulled his feet out in front of him and descended on the closest guy, heavy boots colliding solidly with his back and sending him sprawling head first into the metal wall of the crate in front of him. The other two goons scattered, trying to get far enough away to make their firearms useful, but Batman didn't give them the chance. He snagged one by the back of his shirt and tossed him roughly into the other, the metal of the guns making a hideous racket as they skittered across the pavement, before closing the distance to knock both of them unconscious with two quick, decisive blows. Sure they wouldn't awake anytime soon, Batman grabbed the man who'd gone head-to-head with a shipping container and hauled him off his feet, his head rolling from side to side.

"Where has the Joker gone?" Batman demanded, his voice dropping into a deep growl.

The goon tried to focus, his pupils dilating at different rates; he had a concussion, but that wouldn't stop him from giving the information if he had it. "I don't know man," he drawled, a line of saliva rolling over the side of his mouth. "Given guns. Told to stay. Money."

Batman set the man on his feet and then let go, the sudden disappearance of the support causing the hired hand to collapse into a heap. There was a deep scowl on Batman's face as he hit the button on his phone that would dial in the anonymous tip and let the police get an address. He was sick of the turbulence the Joker was causing. He was sick of wondering how the hell the Joker could stay on top of his movements. He was sick of failing to capture to son of a bitch.

Wondering how much longer it would take for him to save Gotham from further death and terror and to save Eleanor, Batman fired his grappling line at the roof of the tallest building nearby and zipped into the night.

* * *

She was almost naked from the waist up and there were pins sticking out of her flesh; the only remaining cloth on her upper half was her bra and the shreds of the tank top Lucius had made for her. The pins were not acupuncture pins, and they weren't strategically placed either. The pins were a myriad of sewing needles, straight pins, safety pins, push pins and the occasional thing that looked like a porcupine spine, and they were deep, deep inside. Eleanor didn't really care what they were made of, she just knew they hurt like nothing she could have imagined; she had thought nothing would be worse than when the Joker had been carving designs into her stomach, just to watch them heal. She'd clearly underestimated his creativity in the areas of depravity.

Currently, he was wiggling one of the larger needles and giggling at the noises of pain coming from Eleanor's mouth, even though she had clamped it tightly shut. He kept muttering something about how she would talk eventually, or they'd have to capture her little friend again. It was all Eleanor could do to keep the Darkshade disguise in place and maintain her secrets, but if she didn't do something soon, the pain would get worse. The Joker had brought a bunch of new toys today, referring to them as new ways to have fun. Eleanor had apparently obtained the position of his favourite toy, but she had a feeling it wouldn't last long if her healing abilities didn't return in full force. What use was a marked canvas?

She fought to keep herself under control and made it about another five minutes before something inside snapped.

"When I was five, I stole twenty dollars from my mother's purse," she blurted.

The Joker stopped fiddling with the needles—he'd been running fingers over them and humming like he was playing a piano—and looked up at her, one green eyebrow raised into the middle of his lined forehead.

"And I did it again when I was eleven." A crazed laugh bubbled forth from Eleanor's lips. She'd never told anyone about her petty theft before and it was weird that it was coming out now. "I used to eat entire tubs of ice cream and hide the empty containers under the sink. I flushed a live goldfish down the toilet when I was four to send him back to his family in the sea."

"This is all very interesting," Joker told her, crossing his long arms over his skinny frame. "But who is Batman?"

Eleanor ignored him. In fact, she hadn't stopped talking to listen to the Joker. She was on a roll. "I burned a report card when I got a failing grade in math in grade six. I hate Nirvana's music even though I keep telling people I like it; I've never understood the fascination with their songs. I hated my parents when I was little because I thought they'd taken me away from my real parents."

Not even Joker's slap could shut her up. Eleanor didn't know what was happening, but all her unimportant secrets were pouring forth and she was glad for it. It was keeping her from spilling the only important secret she knew, the only one the Joker wanted. It stayed looked in its metal box and didn't even try to get out. If sharing all the personal secrets she'd kept since she could remember was the only way to do so, Eleanor was fine with it. She would not betray Bruce. She would not give his real identity to the Joker. She felt a smile creep across her face at that thought. That earned her another smack and the addition of several more needles. Her muscles twitched and new lines of blood fell to join the others, but still she kept talking. Secrets turning to hopes and dreams and then to random thoughts, but she would not stop her jaw from moving up and down.

Dimly, she was aware of the Joker screaming at her, of two of his bigger thugs appearing and taking her off the wall. Only when they were back at the room with the hole did she finally stop. Goon 1 replaced her normal shackles with a device that bound her arms behind her back from wrist to elbow, but the cuffs on her ankles remained the same. Goon 2 affixed a new chain to the painful device and then they began to lower her into the hole. They left the needles in place and she knew her flesh would knit around them. As the ground approached, something in her shoulder cracked and Eleanor screamed and screamed again when they stopped her descent with her feet barely touching the ground.

Fire raced through her arms, shoulders, back and neck even though she did her best to keep her weight mostly off the massive shackle. Eleanor kept screaming, knowing it wasn't going to make the pain any less but hoping, hoping, hoping that someone outside the dilapidated barn would hear her.

She may have got her wish.

High above her, the hubbub of panic brought her screams to a close. She tried to listen, but her blood was pumping through her ears loud enough to drown out most of what was being said. Maybe something about an intruder? A thief? A stray cat?

Whoever was causing the commotion, Eleanor was happy they were there.

That was her last thought before she passed out, her deadweight falling on her shackles and the resulting pain bringing her right back.

"Fuck," she breathed.

Then she began to cry.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Trail of Blood – Nobuo Uematsu, Final Fantasy VII soundtrack.  
Right Place, Wrong Time – Dr. John.

I hope the little time-skip was evident. In case it wasn't, a few days have passed between this chapter and the last. Why? Because sometimes it's easier to summarize repetitive events rather than go through every single detail. That would be boring. Also, it's less stressful for me to write summary than trying to think up new and creative ways to torture Eleanor. Besides, this helped me get closer to the chapter I'm most excited to write. Which is chapter nineteen. It contains the scene I've wanted to write since I started, the scene that pretty much decided for me that I was going to write this fic, so hopefully I can do it justice, because in my head it's beautiful and sad and dramatic and everything it needs to be. Hopefully my words will be up to it when I get around to writing it and hopefully you all like it.

Hopefully, I can get interest in this story back up before the end of it… Not that I'm complaining. Just whoring for reviews. So let me know what you thought! Please? Reviews make my day and they make me want to update faster.

Oh, and sorry it's taken me forever to get back to this fic and to finish it. It's been like, two years damn it. But there are only eight chapters left and I have Arkham City now and it's excellent. It shouldn't take me much longer to finish this fic. And then… I don't know what'll happen, but we'll see, won't we? There probably won't be another Batman fic for a while however. I've got a Firefly fic to finish, and then some Star Trek and Harry Potter to write.

Oh my God, look at the lack of dialogue in this chapter! I'm impressed with me.

If anyone has played Arkham Asylum or Arkham City, you will recognize the glide kick move.

Enjoy this chapter and I'll try and get the next one out soonish.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Joker and the Thief. **


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Joker and the Thief

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke****'****s ****On ****You.  
**Chapter Eighteen: Joker and the Thief.

* * *

The moon was close to full and peeking out between thick clouds, heavy with the promise of something big: either another thunderstorm or a final snow fall. Spring was coming, but winter wasn't letting go. The promise was also carried in the breeze that brushed across Catwoman's cheeks and nose, cooling her face around her goggles; the wind was picking up. Gotham City was lit with its usual orange glow, enhanced by the fog rolling in off the ocean. The entire world seemed orange. A comforting colour. Comforting like the sounds of the city filling the world around her; somewhere out to sea a boat's horn blew, a wail that tore through the stillness of her current state and shaking her from her momentary pause.

Catwoman had had a good night—she'd gathered quite the score and would make a lot of money off the parts she fenced and enjoy the parts she kept—and now she was staring down at the one piece of information that just made her time in Gotham purrfect, that would keep her free to frolic around the rooftops of Gotham City. For a little while, at least. But a small break was better than no break. It was exactly what she'd been hoping for, especially since Batman had been keeping his eye on her.

She'd found the Joker's new hideout and she just knew Batman would be looking for it.

She thanked her luck that she watched the news—for news of high society events, of course—and had seen the report that the Joker's old hideout had been found, along with the bodies of three of his henchmen and evidence of his usual nefarious activities, including what appeared to be a torture room, chains and all. The crime scene units in Gotham were running tests on all the hair, blood and other bodily fluids they'd found but they weren't confident of getting any concrete results because of all the cross-contamination. Regardless of the lack of information Batman's bust of the old hideout would probably turn up, she knew Batman's sidekick—Darkshade or whatever—was missing, probably captured by said demented clown and being held at the new hideout, thus its location would fetch prime favour. The Bat would get what he wanted. For a price, of course.

Talk about your bargaining chip.

And she'd found it totally by accident. Or luck, depending on which camp you followed.

Her prowling had brought her to one of the original sections of Gotham's largest island, where a few old houses still stood, some in ill repair and some almost liveable. They were dispersed between the newer buildings, but the area was mostly slums so the old houses didn't look too out of place. The one that had caught her attention was one of the one barely standing: windows were all boarded up, the paint was peeling, and several of the boards were warped from moisture. The back half had almost collapsed and the main section of the roof was sagging dangerously. The yard was overgrown, but a path had been cut and trampled through the growth. Uncharacteristically, there were no decorations marking it as the Joker's hideout, but he hadn't been there that long. The only reason Catwoman had noticed the place on her way by was because there was a massive pile of muscle standing outside the front door, some big automatic gun strung across his shoulder with the weapon cradled in his hands and there was no reason for a thug like that to be guarding an abandoned house. So she'd stopped to observe and sure enough, a few moments later, she saw some more henchmen prowling what little there was of the lawn. They were following the line of the old fence, talking to each other and casting bored glances to the landscape around them.

Elated by her discovery, she'd hunkered down on her roof to watch, the warm feeling of being pleased with herself spreading through her chest.

She'd waited a little longer, eyes glued to the house and the yard around it, but the only high profile villain she'd spotted was Harley Quinn when she came out to hand the leashes of her hyenas to another big guard—this one big as in fat, and not as in muscle—and the sight of those dogs was enough for Catwoman. She'd been hoping to see the Joker or Queen of Spades or both, so she could know all three of the baddies were there, but the hyenas were making her spine tingle with nervousness and she wanted to get the hell out of there.

As she moved over the roofs that were so much her playground, Catwoman smiled to herself.

Hopefully no one had spotted her. She didn't think they had, since she'd been a couple rooftops over, but she couldn't be one hundred percent sure by any means. She wouldn't put it past the Joker to have a telescope or binoculars or something to help him spy on the world outside his house, to keep an eye on things. Catwoman had left the area as soon as she had all the information she wanted and she hadn't been there that long.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now.

Catwoman was off to the streets of Gotham proper to look for Batman. But first, she'd have to stash her goods because nothing good or profitable would come from going to see Batman with a bag of stolen jewels on her hip, even if she was going to tell him where Darkshade and the Joker were. He'd take them from her and they were hers now.

She didn't have any idea where Batman would be lurking but, loot well-hidden in her apartment an hour later, and her proposition written out in her head, Catwoman took to the rooftops again, eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Gotham's premiere vigilante and a smile on her face, green eyes glinting deviously behind her red-tinged goggles.

* * *

Sore.

That was the first thing Eleanor felt when she came too. It was the same thing she felt every time she came too.

She shook her head to try and rid herself of the cobwebs and attempted to focus on something, anything. On the pain in her arms, neck and shoulders. On the pain in her back. On the dim light coming from the top of her hole. It didn't work. Nothing worked. Her vision kept dancing in and out of black, her head pounding with every heartbeat and she was pretty sure it was rolling back and forth on her neck as she involuntarily tried to move. She was so comfortable and that just made everything worse. All she wanted was a moment of comfort. Being let down off her chain to be hauled up would even give her a moment.

The bizarre shackle holding her arms pinned painfully behind her back didn't make it possible to sleep, but she did pass out every now and again and caught her z's then—or what could pass for sleep, but it brought no comfort. Usually about every fifteen minutes she dipped back into unconsciousness. Or, that's what it felt like. It was hard to judge time in the dark and exhausted as she was. It was even getting difficult to keep the Darkshade disguise in place, not that the Joker didn't already know who she was, but it made her nervous. Eleanor felt like her skin was melting off her bones and for all she knew, it could be. There was no way for her to see her face and she wasn't going to transform to try and fix it, if it could be fixed.

She wouldn't have even if she could.

The hum of energy that had run through her body since having the nanomachines injected was gone and the nanomachines were officially shut down. Maybe for good. She felt utterly listless, lost and alone. She was scared and couldn't stop shaking and she hadn't realized how much she had come to enjoy the more subtle physical benefits of the nanomachines. Not until they were gone.

Wasn't that always the way?

Eleanor sighed and let her uselessness, her inability to do _anything_except hang there, wash over her.

And she didn't care anymore.

Eleanor had been shocked when she first realized that she didn't care anymore. It had been what felt like several hours ago. She'd actually hung there, gaped mouth and wondering what the hell was wrong with her. How could she give up? Batman would come to save her, he would be there and she would be okay. He would come for her. He had to come for her. He would get her out. Once she felt safe again and had had food and rest, she would be fine and the nanomachines would be working again. She would heal. She would be herself again. She could be Darkshade again.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it really shouldn't be shocking that she was giving up. The Joker had moved the operation and though Bruce had become a brilliant detective since donning the cowl of Batman, it would still take him time to locate the new place. He would have to fight the Joker, his sidekicks and his thugs, and then secure him and make sure he got to Arkham Asylum and put behind bars. Now, he would probably let the cops take the Joker, Harley Quinn and Queen of Spades to Arkham and check on them later, but Eleanor would come second, and that only made sense. It hurt a lot, but it was the way things were when you ran with the vigilantes. Eleanor told herself she was okay with it, and the largest part of her was, but it still hurt.

And this was all if Batman found them before the Joker killed her. Which he was still promising to do, every time he walked past the hole. His methods kept escalating, getting more elaborate or vicious or both. Eventually, he would haul her up and put one of them into practice and she had resigned herself to that fact.

Eleanor sighed, the chain holding her in place rattling and the shackle pulling a bit more. She groaned and wondered if she'd ever be comfortable again. The thought that this hole might be the last thing she ever saw brought tears to her eyes and the liquid was hot on her cheeks; for the first time since adjusting to the little machines in her bloodstream, she felt the temperature difference. She realized how cold it was in the hole. For some reason, she wanted her dog. She wanted Blaze to curl up by her feet.

Eleanor began to shiver.

The chains rattled and she cried a little harder, her disguise slipping farther out of her control.

And then, to make everything worse, the constant pain in her spine crawled along her nerves, lit by the tension already on her body and the voice thundered through her mind. She began to panic and her breath grew shallow.

Eleanor closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the voice. Her bones wouldn't break and heal again, so she couldn't escape. Even if she had found some way to escape, she would have been useless in a fight, even against a skinny guy like Joker. She doubted her ability to stand up. Eleanor was so exhausted. So there was no point. No point.

_No __point. __No __point. __No __point._

_ **Of ****course ****there****'****s ****a ****point. ****There****'****s ****always ****a ****point.**_

_No point. No point. No point._

As it had when she was under house arrest the year before, her breath hitched in her throat and her lungs suddenly felt like they were being forcibly constricted by a pair of iron hands, cold and unyielding. She couldn't get a satisfying breath and she couldn't double over like she would have under normal circumstances. Her body went into convulsions as it tried to huddle into the protective ball, her feet lifting off the ground and putting all her weight on her arms in the chains. The shackle pulled as she moved and she cried harder, her combined pains sucking the last little bit of fight and energy she had out of her.

_No __point. __No __point. __No __point._

Eleanor finally sucked in a deep breath and for a second—_a__second_—she felt relief.

Then she started screaming.

And she didn't stop.

* * *

"Tell me where his hideout is _now_!"

Catwoman hissed and settled back on her heels, her hands tense and claws poised for attack. She was only a foot or so away from the edge of the roof, but she wouldn't go over.

Batman growled in his throat. He was ready for an attack too—he'd been ready for a fight for days, since he'd realized Eleanor's disappearance wasn't of her own volition and Joker's chaos was running rampant through the streets of Gotham. He wanted the Joker back in Arkham and he wanted Eleanor back safe. He wanted a breath of peace for Gotham. Catwoman's sudden appearance had actually startled him. That made him angrier. And now she wasn't giving up the location of the Joker's hideout, when she had teased she had. He needed that information. He growled again and moved a little closer.

"Why Bats, what fun would it be to give you the information for free?" she asked, her voice throaty.

"Tell me where it is!"

His raised voice echoed a bit and the ferocity behind it seemed to startle the cat burglar. She straightened and moved so her back was pressed against the roof across door and she could pull a pose that would have set most men to drooling. Batman wasn't detached enough not to notice, but it didn't sway his determination. When she realized this, she huffed and dropped into a more normal stance, her hands on her hips, one claw tapping against the tight leather of her uniform and her green eyes fixed on his face. She was totally serious, a face Batman had not seen on the woman since she'd shown up in Gotham; her M.O. was always more playful.

"He's holed up in one of the old houses near the west coast of the island, north of the lighthouse and in the slums. You can't miss it—there are armed guards and hyenas stalking around outside the place." She gave a little shudder and stalked towards him, her hips swaying dramatically. "Your little _friend_is probably hidden somewhere in there." She dragged a claw across his chest and over his shoulder as she walked past him, ignoring the growl. "Of course, Bats, I expect some sort of repayment for this information…"

In less than the blink of an eye, Batman whirled around and secured Catwoman's arms in his grasp, holding her firmly in place. "How about I don't hand you over to the police for larceny right now?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a smirk, her full lips curving up. "Honey, you've got bigger fish to fry."

Batman held on to her for a moment longer before he roughly let her go and crossed the roof. He was aware of Catwoman watching him as he fired his grappling hook up the highest nearby building and as she turned to run away. There was nothing else for her in this and she wasn't about to put herself in danger for someone she didn't know or care about. A large part of Batman felt wrong for letting her get away, but the larger part was set on catching the murderous Joker and finding Eleanor.

If she was still alive to find.

* * *

"How did the Cat get away?" the Joker asked, voice boarding on a shrill yell.

The henchmen who had been on duty just gave him a blank stare in return. They had no answer for him—they hadn't seen her apparently. What was he paying them for? Joker mumbled to himself as he paced back in forth in front of the short line, discussing possible punishment options with himself. He could incapacitate them and leave them for the hyenas—the beasts were always hungry—or he could tie rocks to their angles and throw them in the nearby ocean. That sounded too much like the mob. He could let Harley and Queeny have their way with them. But they were out in the city now, causing their nightly chaos to try and distract the Batbrain. What to do, what to do…

"Boys," he said, "I do not know what to do with you." He stopped pacing and faced the men, his green eyes wide and his thin lips twisted into his trademark grin. "But, I think I'll let the girls see to you when they get back. They're having so much fun running around Gotham and they have been so good that I think I will reward them with your blood. For now, however…" He turned to face the doorway and clapped. A few more of the henchmen filed in and grabbed their comrades and following some preordained directions, marched them into another room. "You will be restrained and sedated," the Joker finished to himself. Then he cackled.

That task done, the clown moved into the backyard where the old well was located; it had started to rain a bit, but the Joker didn't mind. Darkshade had finally stopped screaming—he wondered what had set her off, but there were plenty of things it could have been. Her noise had been beginning to give him a headache, but now he wanted her to scream so more before she never screamed again. He wanted her to scream the name of Batman's identity before she fell over, dead. Thinking those wonderful thoughts, he pushed back the wooden covering on the hole and peered down into the darkness. There was a faint rattling that told him the girl was still alive and in some discomfort—that brought a bigger smile to his face. Laughter bubbled up past his lips.

"Oh my darling Lampshape," he sang. "You should come up here and enjoy the weather!"

There was no response except the shaking of the chains. He thought maybe she tried to say something, but he couldn't be sure. His hearing wasn't that good.

"BUD! LOU! GET OUT HERE!"

His favoured henchmen appeared and grabbed the chain when the Joker pointed at it. They began hauling the battered vigilante up, which earned sharp noises of pain from down in the well and what might have been a bitten off scream.

"You know... if you tell me everything I want to know, I will let you li-ive."

"Fu-fuck you," was the fight reply.

The Joker's laugh escalated in volume until it bounced around, off the walls. He did a little dance and clapped his hands. "Oh Lampshade, you really shouldn't be fighting anymore! This is your last ni-ight in your beloved Gotham! Don't you want to see the sights one more time? I'll even let you go for a walk before I bleed you!"

A loud scream broke through Joker's fun. Bud and Lou dropped the chain and Darkshade howled when she hit the bottom.

"It's the Bat!" Joker exclaimed.

"Boss, how do you know that?"

"Who else would it be Lou? He's come to save his ladylove!" He cackled, clapped his hands again before he grabbed a handy two by four and danced into what remained of the house, looking for the pointy-eared vigilante and looking forward to pounding his bat brains in.

* * *

When Eleanor came around the next time, she was lying on her side in the mud at the bottom of the well and she was in more pain than before, just in different parts of her body. Her neck and shoulders hurt a little less because she wasn't hanging almost off her feet anymore, but it felt as if she'd fallen from a decent height—oh wait, she had. She remembered that. She remembered being hauled up by Bud and Lou, remembered hearing the Joker's taunts and trying to prepare herself for torture and death. But something had stopped the Joker's plans and she had fallen back to the bottom of the hole.

She struggled until she was in a sitting position with her side against the curved wall of the well and then paused to take a few deep breaths to get through the fresh wave of pain. Eleanor kept herself as still and quiet as possible to listen, trying to figure out what could have drawn Joker away from her.

Fighting. She heard fighting.

But that was nothing new. There was probably a brawl going on between the henchmen, something Joker had decided he needed to break up. Or make worse. It was hard to tell with the demented clown.

She sagged against the wall and closed her swollen eyes, hoping that maybe she could get some real sleep before her end; she almost laughed at how ridiculous that was, since she'd be sleeping forever soon. Eleanor did feel herself smile, but it was bitter. When sleep didn't come, the vigilante who had briefly been Darkshade turned her head up to the opening and let the rain wash over her face. It felt so good, so refreshing and she was glad she got to feel it on her skin once more.

Eleanor realized belatedly that the fear had all gone from her body and she was almost… relaxed.

That made no sense, but she didn't press. If she could meet Joker with a calm face, it was almost be like a slap to the criminal.

A sharp scream broke through Eleanor's thoughts and drew her attention to the sounds of fighting again. It was the Joker screaming, barking something at someone she couldn't see. His laughter took over the scream, followed by gunshots and the mad barking that could only come from those blasted hyenas. There was a wail of sirens as the fighting continued and then Eleanor felt something she hadn't really felt in a while, in too long, something she should never have given up on.

Hope.

She felt hopeful.

Because if it was just a fight amongst the henchmen, Joker wouldn't be screaming and there wouldn't be guns firing. The hyenas wouldn't be involved. The police most certainly wouldn't be involved.

That could only mean one thing.

Batman had found the Joker. They were fighting.

Batman was here.

He had found the hideout and he would stop the Joker. He would get the Joker on his way to Arkham and then he would drop down into that well and save her. Batman was here.

It would all be okay.

Eleanor did laugh then, but the elation proved too much for her system and she passed out again, falling over in the mud with a soft thud.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Joker and the Thief—Wolfmother.

The next chapter is the one I've been waiting to wriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite!

So excited!

Hopefully you'll all like it too. It's going to be awesome. Hopefully. Gah, I'm kinda nervous about it. I know how I want tit to play out and I know I want it to be emotional, but I don't think I've ever been this invested in a scene before… So I'll be taking my time with it, making it awesome and perfect to display.

Please, let me know what you thought about this chapter to get me pumped for writing the next one!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Next Chapter: Please Don't Stop the Rain. **


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Don't Stop the Rain

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke****'****s ****On ****You.  
**Chapter Nineteen: Please Don't Stop the Rain.

* * *

There was an impossible amount of lackeys in the Joker's employ. It seemed that for every one Batman knocked unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, two or three more took his place, ready and willing to attempt to beat the vigilante to a pulp. Or kill him. Worse: many of them had automatic weapons pointed at him and were far enough away to put those weapons to good use. He'd already taken a graze across his thigh and it was burning as he moved, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep him off his feet. It was enough to make him move a little faster and a little more frantic so he could rid the gun wielding henchmen of their weapons before they took him out.

Another gun crashed to the floor as Batman passed, a muscle-bound thug collapsing to the ground in his wake before he moved to the next one. He knew there were guards approaching from behind him, but they wouldn't catch him, and they were too close to use guns if they had them. When he heard the trademark metallic clink, the caped crusader leapt backwards and spun, his heavy boot colliding with the gunman's jaw. A nasty crack sounded, making another one of the Joker's men take a step back, afraid of suffering the same fate. A broken arm or leg or a concussion wouldn't affect day to day life that much, but a broken jaw would, and the young man clearly didn't want to risk it. Batman drove an elbow into the youth's back and sent him sprawling into what remained of the hardwood floor in the house.

In a momentary pause in the fracas, Batman looked around the room, trying to find Joker or one of his henchwomen, but he saw none of them; if Joker was following the same pattern he'd been operating under, the clown-themed women were somewhere in Gotham. But the Joker would be here. Somewhere.

His survey only took a second and only occupied half his brain, so Batman was ready when the attack resumed. He caught an unarmed man who charged, attempting a football style tackle and tossed him into another lackey, sending the pair sprawling into a third and fourth and the entire group into a wall. As he spun to avoid another attack, he dropped into a crouch and fired a handful of small batarangs up into the faces of some of the guards before he launched himself into a smaller man who thought it would be a good idea to try and pick up one of the guns lost in the commotion and try to get it aimed at Batman.

"Hey Batsie! Come to save your little girlfriend?"

The sudden appearance of the Joker brought the attention of everyone in the room around. The green-haired clown was standing on the landing, peering through a hole in the wall, his sinister smile on his face.

Batman had never hated the sight so much.

Without giving an answer, Batman flung another batarang, this one larger and heavier. The Joker brayed with laughter as he ducked and the device buried itself in the meaty arm of one of the thugs behind him. The Caped Crusader of Gotham recognized the men but couldn't recall their names; not that it mattered. Batman threw himself up the stairs towards Joker, ready to plough through the henchmen and aware that there was no longer an escape down the stairs as the other henchmen had flooded up behind him. He rammed his shoulder into gut of the first man down the stairs and tossed him into the crowd behind him as he rose, the sound of the screams of shock driving him forward. The second man—the one whose arm had been punctured—got shoved into the wall so hard he was knocked unconscious. Most of the boards in the area cracked as well, wooden splinters flying everywhere.

Joker landed a kick to Batman's chest and, using his higher position on the steps, actually managed to almost push Batman off balance. The kick was weak though and the much bigger man was able to grab Joker's ankle and throw him through the fresh hole.

"Oh Bastie, that's no way to say hello!" Batman couldn't see the Joker, but he could tell by the sound of his voice that he was moving. "Boys, why don't we show the Bat how we say hi!"

He had only had a minute to brace before the lackeys made their move. Several pairs of hands grabbed his cape at once and hauled him backwards, back into the middle of the remaining bodies. There were only about half as many as before and they were tired, but Batman attacked them with the same vigour as before, his mind set on getting back to where the Joker had fallen.

* * *

The sound of sirens sounded harsh in the relative silence of the hole, but they were welcome.

Just like the sounds of fighting were familiar and welcome. They made Eleanor feel better, but she was still stuck in the well, painfully chained and ignored. She knew Batman would come for her when and if he could, but not being able to get involved with what was going on up there hurt her in a way she never could have imagined. All of her nerves were firing, telling her to get up, climb out of the hole and join in, to help, but she would be useless, even if she could get out of her restraints somehow.

She heard the sounds of punches fairly close and her heart leapt, but the next minute the sounds moved away, back towards the main area of battle. Someone screamed in pain and Eleanor smiled. The scream didn't belong to Batman.

Part of her wanted to scream out, to call for help, to let Batman know where she was, but she didn't. Eleanor tried to stand up—for some reason, her mind told her that would be best, if she was standing—but it hurt far too much and she crumpled back down, legs folded awkwardly underneath her; one or both of her ankles were twisted bad, maybe even sprained or fractured and could not take her weight. She knew this, but still Eleanor struggled to get to her feet again because at least then she would be doing something, so she wouldn't just be sitting there like some damsel in a fairy tale. She almost cried out again, but the impulse was corralled by the deep grunts of pain as she tried to straighten out her knees.

She fell into the mud again.

"Fuck," she breathed. The rain was falling harder and though the top of the well was only open about a third of the way, it was enough to let a good deal of rain in. When the wave of pain from her fall had passed, she manoeuvred herself into the sheltered section of the hole and pressed herself as close to the dirt wall as she could. A droplet of mud trickled out of the well wall and across her face. "What's a little more mud?" she asked.

Her voice was edged with laughter, that hysterical laughter, but she tried to pay it no mind. She tried to think only of Batman up there, doing his job, doing what was right. She tried to remind herself that she would be saved and she would heal, despite all the pain she was in.

She would be fine.

Right?

She would be saved and the nanomachines would start working again and she would heal and she would be fine.

A shrill scream followed by a laugh—a noise that could have only come from Joker—shook Eleanor from her thoughts, brought her back before she could descend into her own little madness again.

And she thought that calling out couldn't be any worse than being silent.

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice not making it past the mud. "I'm down here."

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

"I'm here."

Thunder clapped and the boards above her head rattled with the increased rain.

"Down here."

Shadows appeared in a flash of lightning and Eleanor gave an involuntary jump upwards. Her legs screamed in protest and down she went, another strangled cry cutting past her lips. Her leg muscles twinged and twitched and fire shot through her nerves. She wanted to rub her hands over the inflicted area, but she couldn't. Her hands itched with the wanted effort. All she could do was curl forward and press her stomach and chest against her thighs and knees. It offered a little relief, but not what she needed.

A high whine escaped her lips. It didn't sound human and she wasn't making it consciously.

That scared her.

"Do…down… down here," she croaked.

No one, not even someone at the opening of the well would have heard it.

* * *

By the time the police and S.W.A.T. team finally busted into the old house, the thunderstorm was in full swing, sheets of rain lashing against the walls with every gust of wind and every bolt of lightning threatening to knock the power out somewhere in Gotham, if it hadn't already. The frequent flashes of lightning illuminated also the unconscious or crippled men sprawled across the floor, the ones who might be able to get away secured to whatever would keep them in place. For the most part, they were all silent, but a few of the goons were moaning piteously. The teams moved around stealthily, their black and dark blue clothing making them blend in with the shadows. They checked everyone—they were all still alive, as was expected.

But Joker and Batman were nowhere to be seen.

"We looked for them both, sir."

James Gordon turned his stoic face to the young man behind the S.W.A.T. helmet. "Batman is not going to stick around and wait for us to show up, son. He has better things to do than talk to the police." If he sounded a little bitter, the young man gave no sign of noticing. He just nodded once, before running back to join his colleagues.

Once the house was secured and everything was thoroughly checked out, the men all scrambled to the task of loading all the henchmen into the various vehicles to take them to lockup and for a moment, Gordon just watched, wondering where Joker and Batman could have gone. He liked to think Batman was off chasing the Joker and likely, that was the truth, but he couldn't be sure. There was no way to be sure until Joker turned up back in Arkham or was but in police custody. Best to just to make sure the situation inside the city—the chaos Harley Quinn and Queen of Spades were causing—was kept under control. Maybe his men could catch them soon. They had almost caught them several times before, but they were vicious and cruel women and hard to keep under anyone's thumb.

The police commissioner of Gotham sighed and stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat as he started through the remains of what once would have a been a beautiful and big house. When he had reached the collapsed portion of the building at the back—what had probably been the dining room—the rainfall increased, drumming against the roof and windows and walls and turning the faint din of noise into a roar. Where holes had been haphazardly covered with whatever was available, a faint spray got through. The rain was still cold; it was too early for otherwise. Thunder shook the loose panes of glass.

The Gotham winter certainly wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

"Sir, there are people out back!"

Gordon turned abruptly and walked to the hole in the north-facing wall of the house, wondering briefly where the door had gone to. The breaks in the wood indicated that the removal of it was recent and he couldn't think of a reason for anyone to tear a perfectly—or reasonably perfect, anyway—good door out of the wall.

"Where?" he asked the uniform who was trotting along behind him.

"Over by the old well."

Gordon stepped out to the sheltered porch that ran along the length of the house and started back to the square patch of lawn the uniform indicated. In a particularly violent gust of wind, the rain lashed against Gordon's face. He hoped the storm would blow itself out soon. He reached the steps leading down to the grass, but hopped over them, not wanting to test their strength. As he straightened, there were several quick flashes of lightning in succession.

There was no one standing there, but over the din of the storm, Gordon thought he could hear something down in the well. He moved a little closer, one hand hovering by his gun and the other poised over his eyes to try and keep his vision a little clear; he had already tucked his glasses in his pocket. They were useless in the heavy rain.

* * *

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."

Eleanor's voice was cut off by the sobs that seemed to come regardless of her effort to keep from crying. She had started rocking back and forth at some point as she muttered to herself and the movement was hurting her shoulders, but it was a pain lost somewhere amongst all the others. Everything had kind of coalesced into one giant throbbing and she was pretty sure she could feel the skin and muscle hanging off her bones, sloughing off in sections matching the designs Joker had so painstakingly cut in her flesh; every now and then, a sharper twinge would surprise her and she would sob harder.

She was losing her mind.

While she had listening to the fighting, she had told herself over and over again she was okay with waiting for Batman to come and get her when he could, but it was a lie. She wanted out and she wanted out now. Yesterday. She wanted to see Batman, to see Bruce, to hug him and know that he was real, that everyone wasn't some concoction of her torture-induced fantasies—no, that was impossible.

Bruce was real. She knew that.

And he would come to save her when he could. When all the henchmen and Joker and Harley and Queeny were all safely handcuffed and behind bars. When Gotham was safe again. Or safe for the moment. Batman would come for her.

But he still wasn't there and the fighting was over.

Eleanor had been dimly aware of the police finally reaching the house. She heard squealing brakes and, if she looked up, she could see red and blue flashing in the rain. She heard yells as they made their way through the houses and, in moments when her heightened senses kicked in, she could hear them stomping around in the heavy boots and equipment, wood creaking under the added weight. She heard a couple people making their way through the yard and part of her hoped they'd find the well—at this point, she tried to make more noise than she had, but her voice just croaked in her throat. So she'd back to imagining the familiar dark shape of Batman dropping into the well to save her.

Shortly after this, when most of what she heard was silence and her heart pounding in her ears, the voice appeared.

It liked to show up in her worst moments, Eleanor realized.

_**You **__**are **__**not **__**worthy **__**of **__**being **__**saved, **_the voice said. Strangely, this time the voice had a body to go with it—Eleanor saw the disfigured form of Doppelganger, Ashlynn, staring at her with bright yellow eyes, greenish skin bubbling as she tried to hold her crooked body straight. _**You **__**are **__**not **__**worthy **__**of **__**the **__**powers **__**the **__**NanoShift **__**technology **__**has **__**given **__**you. **__**You **__**should **__**die **__**in **__**this **__**hole.**_

The next sob past Eleanor's lips turned into a sort of laugh. She had nothing to say to the voice, to Ashlynn. Crying, laughing and trying to ignore the fear inside, Eleanor snuggled up to the muddy wall and tried to think of a warm, soft bed.

"Did you find him?"

That voice. It cut through the noise of Ashlynn yelling at Eleanor. She knew that voice. It belonged to Commissioner Gordon. Eleanor licked her lips, tasted mud and coughed. She swallowed and tried to cry out, but her voice was gone. Gordon was talking to someone. A faint rumble was all she could hear of the reply.

_Please __oh __please __oh __please __let __it __be __Bruce._

"We'll start after him then."

Someone jumped into the hole then, a familiar mechanical whirring reaching her ears.

She cried harder.

She smiled.

Batman landed in front of her, his cape, heavy with water, slapping against the muddy floor. Eleanor gave a yell of relief and tried to throw herself to him, her joy at seeing him plain on her face, in her eyes that were once again cobalt blue. If she'd been free, she would have scrambled to get her arms around him, to hug him, to feel him alive and warm, to feel safe in arms again, but she couldn't move. She screamed in frustration and tried to yank her arms out of the shackle, but Batman moved closer, the action bringing her to silence. His strong hands found her shoulders and held her in place. He looked at her, his blue eyes dark under the cowl and the rest of his face carefully blank; she must look like hell for nothing to be showing on his face. She couldn't stop smiling at the sight of him though. She wanted to laugh, but all that came out were more tears. She began to shiver. She felt a little dizzy.

"Hold still," he said quietly, the thumb of one hand gently brushing her cheek as he pulled his hands away.

It almost killed her to stop from moving while Batman turned her around and began working on the bizarre shackle's locks. With every metallic clink and tug on her arms, she made a small noise of impatience just so she wouldn't squirm, and every time Batman switched tools, she tried to wiggle out of her confinement; she wished as hard as she could that she would never be bound again, but knew that was a wasted thought. After what felt like an eternity, the metal finally fell away and Eleanor's arms dropped into the mud, her shoulders, back and neck screaming in protest at the new and unfamiliar movement. Her nerves were on fire again, but the cold, squishy dirt felt wonderful. Even better was the hand on her shoulder and the presence at her back. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Eleanor turned and wrapped her arms around Bruce's neck as tightly as she could and held herself against him, pressing her face into the curve of his neck.

She didn't ever want to let go.

"You came," she sobbed happily, her voice breaking over the words.

For the briefest second, he didn't move, just knelt there with her holding on. When whatever held him back passed, his arms slid around her gingerly, like he was afraid he'd hurt her. "Of course I came," was his eventual reply, the tone of his voice a strange mix of happiness and anger. His arms tightened a tiny bit and Eleanor knew he was glad to see her, despite whatever else was bothering him.

She found she was able to speak if she didn't do so loudly. "I didn't… I didn't think you'd come," she admitted. "I'd given up…"

Instead of replying right away, Bruce stood up and, awkwardly, her legs went around his waist. He tightened his arms a fraction more and put his cheek against hers in a display of relief at finding her alive. "I wouldn't have left you here, Ellie," he told her, his voice vacant of all Batman's growl and barely more than a whisper. "I wouldn't have left you here."

"I was so terrified…"

"It's okay now, Eleanor. I'm here. We're going home."

She'd never heard anything so perfect in all her life.

* * *

He hadn't known what to expect when he found her—he hadn't even known if he'd find her alive—but he should have expected she'd be in bad shape, even with the nanomachines in her blood. He knew the Joker and his methods, and he knew nothing would stop Joker, but he'd still be surprised when he'd gotten her into the headlights and been able to see the full extent of her injuries.

Both of her eyes were black and swollen partially shut and both of her lips were cracked and caked with dried blood. The bottom one was mildly swollen. One cheek looked a little caved in, and she was missing the lobe of one ear. Most of her fingers looked like they'd been broken and healed improperly, and both her forearms were red and raw from the shackle; lines of blood showed where the edge of the metal had bit into her skin. There were also deeper indentations in her wrists and around her ankles, as if she'd been shackled differently at some point. Her legs didn't seem to work properly and one bare foot was sitting at a wrong angle. Every inch of skin visible underneath her tattered clothing was covered in cuts and scrapes of varying size, depth, and shape, some of them so odd that he didn't really want to think of what could have caused them. As he'd shifted her so she was easier to carry, he found what looked like a thick sewing needle sticking out of her side and pulled it out quickly.

He didn't know why the nanomachines had stopped working, and he didn't care. He just hoped they'd start working again.

"Can you change into Darkshade?" he asked her as they approached the crowd of police officers. There was no way to get around them without being noticed.

He heard her say she'd try and stopped walking so he could look down and watch. Her hair turned black slowly and in spurts and one eye did as well, but when she sagged heavier in his arms, he knew she was spent. She closed her eyes, effectively covering the one orb that was the wrong colour. Her shaking became more violent and he was sorry he'd asked her to try.

There were no more ambulances waiting, having all taken the injured henchmen away and not knowing about the hostage since the house had been cleared, so Batman just walked through the crowd of police and didn't say a word to anyone, even when he was asked. He'd told Gordon that the hostage was Darkshade and he was taking her somewhere safe to be looked after. He'd also told Gordon that he'd followed Joker for a while, before the clown had gotten into a bright green and purple hummer and taken off towards the bridge. The police commissioner had sent five cars in that direction; Batman would join the hunt when Eleanor was safe. He'd managed to get a tracker on Joker's coat and hoped the clown wouldn't notice until it was too late.

As Batman had started away, he'd heard a uniform tell Gordon that the henchwomen were in custody.

This was almost over.

It may only be a temporary reprieve, but it was something.

Joker would be behind bars, Gotham was safe for a while, and Eleanor was alive.

It was something.

When he was outside the crowd around the house and far enough away to go unnoticed, he headed down the alley where the Batmobile was parked. The car was gleaming in the rain but was still almost invisible in the shadows. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"Don't let go…" Eleanor whispered when he tried to put her in the passenger seat. Her eyes were still closed, but her face was contorted in pain. The adrenaline was wearing off. If she wasn't already, she would be feeling the full extent of her injuries soon. "Don't let go…"

His face folding in around a deep frown, Batman laid the soaking wet Eleanor down as gently as he could in the seat and buckled her in. When she was as settled as she was going to get, he quickly climbed behind the wheel and took off, casting furtive glances at her as he drove through the sleeping city, afraid to see her stop moving, to hear her stop breathing. The small noises of pain she was making were horrible but comforting because they let him know she was still alive, that she was still holding on.

She started to scream just as he pulled into the shelter of the Cave.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Please Don't Stop the Rain – James Morrison.

How was it?

Was it emotional?

Did it make you feel something?

What a weird question. Oh well, it still stands.

I spent a lot of time and emotional energy on this chapter, particularly that last two sections and I would like to know how I did. This scene changed a lot since the first time I wrote it, when I was just writing something that was in my head, but I think it's a lot better now. More realistic. More rainy.

Anyways, I hope you all liked it and please review to let me know what you thought!

Until next time.

* * *

**Next Chapter: How Could I Survive? **


	20. Chapter Twenty: How Could I Survive?

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke****'****s ****On ****You.  
**Chapter Twenty: How Could I Survive?

* * *

When he thought about it later, Bruce couldn't remember how he had managed to move Eleanor from the passenger's seat to the examination table deeper in the cave. All he could recall was the screaming. They weren't shrill or very loud, but the noises were strangled and forced and disturbing. It sounded like she was reliving her torture at Joker's hands, and for all Bruce knew, she was. With Alfred's help, Bruce got Eleanor on her back on the metal table and the long-time butler was able to inject her with morphine. The drug only took a few minutes to take effect and eventually the tremors in her body diminished and her screams subsided. She was mostly still, her head turned to one side and her full extent of her injuries visible under the fluorescent lighting in the cave; while she had begun to heal, she was still not in good shape. Alfred sighed as he took in the sight, a pained look crossing his face. It was a momentary lapse in his otherwise strong control, and it was gone when he turned his attention to the task at hand.

The lacerations decorating her skin were mostly healed, except for the deepest few scratches and gouges, which were still red and angry though they weren't bleeding anymore. The marks from her shackles were still dark and her skin was still torn around her wrists and ankles. None of her broken bones had mended, so her cheek was still caved in, and part of her left ear was still missing—Bruce wasn't sure that would ever grow back. The swelling in her lips and eyes had gone down, but her skin had taken on a greyish tone and become translucent, the blue of her veins visible in more places than it should be. In places were the veins had already been close to the surface, they were poking out; at her wrist he could almost see her pulse, weak as it was. Eleanor was still covered in dried blood and other unidentifiable substances, but those would come off with a wash, hopefully. Her finger and toe nails were long, cracked and broken. She looked terrible. She looked like she should be dead and it could be that the nanomachines were the only thing that had kept that from coming to fruition.

"I'm going to have to reset the bones I can before they heal completely in the wrong position," Alfred said quietly after he had finished examining the woman. The sudden noise pulled Bruce from his own examination sharply, but Alfred's voice was full of concern. "And I do not think I should stitch any of her wounds closed to prevent her skin healing over the thread. We have no way of knowing how fast she's going to start healing."

Bruce nodded in agreement, his eyes not leaving Eleanor's still-restless form. "She's already started to heal quicker." His eyes followed one wound as it began to knit together. It was unsettling to watch but a smile flickered across his face for the briefest of seconds.

With no further hesitation, Alfred took Eleanor's broken ankle in his practiced hands and shared a look with his charge. Bruce moved down the table to hold Eleanor's trembling leg still so Alfred could jerk it back into place without causing further damage, which he did with two efficient moves, the crack of the bones echoing grimly around the medical area of the cave. Eleanor's body twisted with the movement, her cobalt eyes rolling back in her head, but the morphine kept her from screaming and from really realizing what was going on. For that, Bruce was grateful. She didn't need to suffer the pain of breaking bones again. Without saying anything else, Alfred set the few toes that were out of place and then moved to her right hand, where the twisted digits complied quickly with his ministrations before he moved to her left. While his lifelong friend and guardian worked at putting Eleanor to rights where he could, Bruce remained at the end of the table, a hand on either side of Eleanor's head, watching the dulled pain cross her face in waves and wondering if the cheekbone would heal properly on its own.

When her bones were set, Alfred started cleaning the dirt and grime out of some of the still-open wounds as gently as he could. Bruce was sure Alfred was going to have reopen some of the other wounds and clean those as well, and that process would not be gentle, but he didn't stay to watch. He crossed the inhabited section of the Batcave to where the Batsuits were kept to change into the jeans and t-shirt Alfred would have brought downstairs with him. As Bruce changed, he looked at the spare jacket of Darkshade's hanging on the wall and stopped.

"Eleanor," he huffed sharply as he dropped into the lone chair in the room.

The man behind the Batman put his head in his hands, his t-shirt still clutched in one fist, and bit back a groan. Until he'd returned to Gotham a couple years ago, he had only been responsible for himself, only had to worry about his wellbeing. When he'd come back home to take a stand against crime, he'd suddenly had to worry about Alfred, Rachel and Eleanor, about the people who had come back into his life, and now Eleanor had come so very close to dying. He felt responsible, he felt like he had failed her in some way. She shouldn't have come to this much harm, not while she was working with him, not while she was with him.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come on and Bruce pushed himself to his feet and pulled the t-shirt on. He stared at the costumes hanging around him, sucked in another breath and left the secluded room. Back in the medical area of the cave, Alfred was cleaning up the materials used to clean Eleanor's wounds, and the woman in question was lying eerily still on the table, her chest barely moving up and down as she sucked in rattling breaths. Bruce stood there, barefoot with the stone pushing into his feet, and watched her for a minute, just to make sure she kept breathing, before he picked her up and held her close to his chest, Eleanor groaning and grabbing feebly at Bruce's shirt with a hand that didn't work very well. He started towards the elevator, but Alfred cleared his throat, stopping him in his path.

"Watch her hands, Master Bruce," Alfred said without looking up from his task.

"I will."

By the time they reached the mansion proper, Eleanor was shivering and mumbling incoherently. Her fingers that hadn't been broken were curling and uncurling like she was trying to make a fist and her eyes were rolling around in her head as she spoke. Bruce recognized the signs of shock—he'd expected this—and just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt her temperature begin to drop; like everything else since she'd been injected with the nanomachines, the change was accelerated. He carried her into the bathroom attached to his bedroom, the one with the large, walk-in shower, and turned the water in the shower on fairly hot. When the water hit Eleanor, she whimpered, but the shivering lessened and Bruce felt it was safe to sit with her on the tiles, her propped against his chest.

"Cold."

It was the first coherent word she'd managed since he'd pulled her from that hole. He reached up and turned the temperature of the water up, even though steam had already covered the glass walls of the shower. She leaned into him, her arms draped over his legs; she had no energy left, not even enough to hold herself upright. Bruce removed the remaining fragments of her clothing as he washed the dried substances from her skin. As he was rinsing the blood from her matted hair, one of Eleanor's hands came to rest heavily on his leg and she began to cry again. She wasn't sobbing, she wasn't even making any noise, but somehow Bruce knew there were tears falling.

Bruce looked at the skin of her back and realized that all the cuts were gone. All of her fingers were flexing against his leg. He brought her back to rest against his chest and looked down at her face. Her cheek was full again. Her ear was whole. This wave of tears was from the pain of healing.

When she was clean and, as far as he could see, whole, he turned off the water, wrapped one of the big white towels around her and carried her back into the bedroom. She still couldn't move too much under her own power, but Eleanor was content to just lie there on the bed, drifting somewhere between sleep and complete unconsciousness. Once Bruce had changed out of his wet clothes, he lay down beside her and pushed some of her wet hair back from her face.

"Thank you," she breathed. Her eyes remained closed.

"You don't have to thank me, Ellie." He tucked a pillow under her head, the motion making her eyes flicker open. Her cheeks were still wet, but she was smiling. "Is the pain subsiding?"

"Yes."

"Good." Lightly, he brushed his fingertips over the spot where her cheek had shattered. She winced and he pulled away. "I wasn't sure I would find you alive," he said after a minute.

Eleanor slid her arm across the bed and grabbed Bruce's hand. She said nothing else, but smiled again as she shut her eyes.

* * *

When Eleanor woke up, the room was dark and she was still lying in the middle of Bruce's bed, although now she was under the covers and the towel was gone. Her body was sore and stiff, the area around her healed broken bones still throbbing with each beat of her heart. For a few minutes, she remained in her prone position and waited until she thought she could move without hurting herself too much. When the ache didn't subside, Eleanor slowly sat up and draped her legs over the side of the bed. When that didn't kill her, she got to her feet and stretched a bit.

Satisfied that she wasn't going to fall apart or collapse in indescribable pain, Eleanor padded over to Bruce's dresser and pulled on one of his t-shirts, the garment large enough to cover everything important. On her way out the door, she stole a glance at the clock. It was seven o'clock in the evening—there was a chance Bruce hadn't left yet. She walked down the hall to the blue bedroom where her clothes were and tried to figure out if she'd been asleep for only one day or if it had been more than that. Once she'd located the bag she wanted, she pulled on a pair of underwear and one of her many baggy pairs of pyjama pants and then trod the familiar path to the Batcave, testing the movement in her limbs and joints as she moved.

"Eleanor," Bruce said as the elevator clicked into its bay. He crossed the short distance from his workbench as she stepped past the grating. "How are you doing?"

"I'm a little stiff and sore, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before." Bruce gave her a look that clearly said that he wasn't talking about her physical wellbeing, so she rolled her eyes and said, "I'm still freaked out and I feel a little weak. I keep expecting someone to jump out and attack me, but all I can think about doing is getting back out there with you and looking for the bastard." Bruce opened his mouth to no doubt tell her that wasn't a good idea, but she continued right over any objections he would have raised. "I am _not_sitting around here while you're out after him."

"Eleanor, I just pulled you out of a hole, half dead. You may be healed, but your body is not going to be able to handle the stress of going out on the hunt for Joker."

"Look, Bruce, I'm not just going to let him get away with what he's done to me, my friends and family. I know you are fully capable of capturing and getting him into Arkham on your own, but I want to be there to see it." Bruce continued to give his disapproving look, but worn out as he was, she saw the concern flickering beneath it all. "Look, I'll stop if I have to, but I'm healed and I can feel my body getting stronger. I will be fine."

"Have you felt any more of the pain in your spine? Or heard the voice again?"

"Not since you saved me. I'll let you know if I do again." Silence fell as they stood there, about a foot apart, and looked at each other. A stray breeze blew her hair off her neck and ruffled her baggy clothes around her body, but she didn't react. Following a sudden impulse, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his chest and put her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and loved how warm he felt; apparently her enhanced biology wasn't completely back to normal, because she was picking up on the temperature difference. She didn't think there was any need to mention that to Bruce. "Thank you for coming to get me, Bruce. Thank you for saving my life."

Surprising Eleanor, he returned the embrace. "I will always come and get you if I can, Ellie. Always."

She giggled a bit. "I think that's the nicest thing you ever said to me." She felt a vibration in his chest that could have been a laugh, but there was no way to be sure when she couldn't see his face. After holding the embrace for another moment, Eleanor stepped back and started walking for the elevator. "I've got to go change since I only have a spare coat." She looked over her shoulder at him and had to suppress the urge to run back to him, to the safety his arms presented. "Don't leave without me."

He answered her by lifting one hand in response and then turning and walking back to his computers.

Upstairs again and feeling much better than she had before, Eleanor dug through the piles of clothes that had accumulated around her bedroom until she found a clean pair of black jeans, a black tank top, a pair of socks and a bra. She changed and then stood there for a few minutes, adjusting to weight of proper clothing. She found her leather gloves tucked into the pocket of her leather jacket. Eleanor grabbed the boots she'd worn her first time out as Darkshade and pulled them on. As she was zipping them up however, her hands suddenly started to shake and she had to stop. She couldn't get them to obey. The traumatized woman sucked in a deep breath, her ribs pulling; _great, _she thought_, __I __didn__'__t __even __realize __my __ribs __were __broken. _When the shaking had passed, Eleanor got to her feet and marched back down to the cave before she lost her nerve.

Bruce was dressed in his armour, the cowl pushed back over his head, and waiting for her when she returned to the cave. There must have been a panicked look on her face, because Bruce asked her if she was all right again. She didn't answer. Instead, she moved to the massive closet to retrieve her coat, planning on pulling it off the hanger, marching right back into the cave and climbing in the car to go on patrol.

Instead, she froze.

Her hands were shaking, her knees were shaking—her entire body was vibrating with fear. Her flight or fight response was in high gear and it was telling her to go back upstairs, climb back into bed and hide, since Bruce's arms weren't available for the safety she apparently needed. Eleanor's temperature plummeted and her teeth began to chatter. Still, she didn't move.

_This __is __stupid, _she told herself. _It__'__s __just __a __coat. __Just __put __it __on __and __go __out __there. __Get __in __the __car __and __go __find __the __fucking __Joker __and __end __this._

She didn't move.

"Eleanor?"

Bruce's baritone cut through her internal debate, but she still couldn't make herself move. She was aware of him moving to stand close behind her. He didn't say anything. Eleanor was beyond grateful for that.

Eleanor took a step forward and grabbed the coat. Her joints felt like they were rusted in place. She pulled the coat off its hanger and slid it over one arm and had the distinct urge to throw the long, heavy coat on the floor. With the coat on her other arm, she finally turned and looked at Bruce, who was watching her with his trademark stoic face. She zipped it shut and felt claustrophobic. She sucked in a deep breath and held Bruce's blue-eyed gaze as she concentrated on summoning her shifting abilities. Her hair turned black and her eyes followed. She almost cried out, but held it inside.

"Are you ready?" Bruce asked.

She nodded. "I think I am."

Batman pulled the cowl over his head and led the way to the car. Darkshade followed close behind, pulling her leather gloves over her hands as she moved.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

How Could I Survive?—Neverending White Lights feat. Sharky Laguana.

Only 4 chapters and an epilogue left boys and girls! And then I'll move on to something else and I won't be writing Batman again until after The Dark Knight Rises comes out in July. I think that'll be a record for me. Hopefully after I kick this fic's ass, I can move on to something that won't kick my ass so much. Or my original story. But it'll kick my ass more than any fanfiction I could ever write since it's so much my baby.

Anyways, this chapter was also fairly hard to write for a couple reasons. One, it was full of emotion. Two, if I didn't write the shower scene write, it's gonna be awkward, but I think I got it. Three, I was kind of afraid to release this chapter because it could be awkward. That's also why it took so long for me to publish it. That and Desert Bus.

If you're not watching Desert Bus, by the way, GO DO IT. .

And that's my plug.

So enjoy this chapter and I'll see you next time.

Oh, and by the way, the walk-in shower was inspired from an episode of The Animated Series.

Also, I didn't realize this fic had gone over 100, 000 words. It's the first fic I've ever written that's been that long. No, wait, it's the ONLY thing I've ever written that's been that long. WOO HOO. Add another achievement to my list! I should make an achievement list. No wait, a trophy list, because then I could get a platinum trophy in life! Yeah, I went there.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Next Chapter: Can't Let You Go; Invincible. **


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Can't Let You Go

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You.  
**Chapter Twenty-One: Can't Let You Go; Invincible.

* * *

The rain hadn't let up since Batman had pulled Darkshade out of that hole, but it didn't bother the rescued vigilante at all. The woman behind the unneeded mask had always loved the rain, always found comfort in it, and her recent trauma had not changed that.

Currently, she was perched on top of a gargoyle on top of one of Gotham's tallest churches with a smile on her face, her coat and hair flapping heavily in the wind as trails of rain streamed along her face and neck. Her eyes were closed and her face was turned into the spray, even though it was cold. She could feel the chill still, but it didn't bother her. The nanomachines were working again and all of insensitivity to temperature would return with her enhanced biology. She knew that and she felt better. Aware. All the pain had subsided—sure, there was still a dull throb around her joints and her still-healing bones, but it was manageable—and the fear that had paralyzed her back in the Cave seemed like a distant memory. Realizing her improved state, she let out a little laugh, quiet and to herself so Batman wouldn't hear from his position below her.

He was standing in the bell tower of the church, trying to hone in on the faint signal the tracker he'd planted on Joker's coat was giving off. Apparently the heavy rain was wreaking havoc with the signal or something and being higher up helped elude the interference. Or gave the tracker a larger range. Something. Batman had explained the situation with much technobabble that Darkshade didn't really understand, so she'd just moved out of the way to let him work and to let herself breathe.

That had only been a few moments ago.

"Darkshade," he called, having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and the smack of raindrops on stone and shingle. "I've got him."

Moving quickly, but not as fast she had before lest she reverse any of the healing done while she slept, Darkshade gracefully descended from her perch and landed on the stone railing in front of Batman. When she stepped down from her somewhat awkward position on the railing however, she stumbled, not all of her impeccable balance returned. The unexpected movement earned her a heavy look from Batman, a look she tried to return with her usual unimpressed eyebrow raise. It was impossible when her own faith in her enhanced abilities was shaky.

She tried to shake it off, but knew it wouldn't matter. She knew Batman would be keeping track of everything, trying to find some way to keep her from confronting the Joker was whatever protection he had left.

He showed his worry in the worst possible way sometimes.

"He's somewhere near Amusement Mile," Batman rumbled.

Darkshade frowned as something twinged in her mind. There was some piece of information trying to push its way forward, something she knew that would probably be important to their task. She just nodded in response to Batman's information and started to where the grappling line was attached, her mind whirring; Darkshade could feel Batman's gaze, heavy on her back, but she ignored it in favour of provoking his ire at her being on patrol.

"Wasn't there a candy factory there a while ago? That closed down?" she asked suddenly, her memory of the tiny building with the clown head on top breaking through the years of repression; the building had scared her when she was young. She dropped the line she'd been holding.

"Yes. The Joker is probably holed up there, or nearby."

"Well the freaky-ass clown on top certainly fits his M.O."

Darkshade absorbed another displeased look from Batman before the pair grabbed the grappling line they'd used to get up to the top of the locked church at the late hour. They descended rather quickly, Darkshade with her arms wrapped around Batman as tight as she could manage without hurting either of them. Even so, about two thirds of the way down, her arms started to tremble. She prayed that Batman wouldn't feel it, but knew he would. When they reached the ground, she immediately made tracks for the Batmobile while Batman gathered up his line.

The air in the vehicle was tense as they drove north through the city towards the old theme park and Darkshade wanted to be back on top of that gargoyle, basking in the chill of the rain. Only that short while ago, she'd thought everything was going to be fine, but she knew Batman and Bruce beneath the mask was going to be watching her closely until he was sure she'd recovered fully physically and mentally. It wouldn't matter if she said she was fine, if she proved she was fine, it would all depend on his observations. She repressed the urge to sigh and just leaned back in her seat, the roar of the engine filling her head. All too soon, they would be face to face with the Joker again and, if Darkshade was being honest with herself, she wasn't sure she wanted to be there.

A dull ache started to spread out from her stomach, a rolling mixture of panic, nausea, and fear, but she swallowed it down, pushed it to the back of her mind, hoping it wouldn't show on her face. She was scared, but she wasn't going to run away. She couldn't run away, not after talking her way into coming. And she really did want to see the Joker put back in Arkham after what he'd done to the people Darkshade cared about, after what he'd done to her personally; as she remembered her injuries of only a day or so ago, she rubbed a hand across her belly and she started shaking again.

"E—Darkshade." Batman grumbled.

She heard the slip—he'd almost called her Eleanor, something he never did while they were about Gotham in costume. "I'm fine. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't capable of it." Even to Darkshade, her voice sounded defensive and her words didn't make much sense.

The only reply she got was a monosyllabic grunt.

She offered one up in return and then settled back in her seat, her body still trembling and aching in the places she'd been injured. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Darkshade swallowed the urge to agree with Batman's silent insistence that she should have stayed home.

A warm bed and a cup of tea didn't sound like a horrible idea…

_No, I've got to see Joker put back in Arkham. He killed my mother and I'm not going to let him hurt anyone else. Not this time._

That dark voice—not the one brought on by the nanomachines, but the one that's in everybody's head—from the back of her mind rose up and told Darkshade, told Eleanor, that it wasn't enough that the demented clown was put back in Arkham, a place from which he'd escaped before.

_I'm not going to kill him. I can't do that._

Darkshade closed her eyes, wrapped her arms over her stomach and tried to ignore everything for just a few minutes.

Amusement Mile appeared around them gradually, the silhouettes of the attractions looming over the tops of the buildings and then swaying in the wind above the Batmobile. The air was full of the sound of creaking wood and whining metal, able to be heard above the rain and wind and the sound of the car. They parked in the deep shadows of the buildings closer to the water. When Darkshade stepped out in the rain, she was assailed by the smell of stale food and damp wood emanating from the dead park around her. She screwed up her nose and followed Batman's lead to the ominous silhouette of the clown-topped candy factory just visible in the distance. She was still trembling, still aching.

And it just got worse, with every step she took.

* * *

The jog from the Batmobile to the candy factory was a fraction slower than it would have been before Darkshade's capture, but Batman was sure she hadn't noticed. She was moving smoothly and her breathing wasn't heavy, but they were moving slower. He could see the sweat on her brow and the trembling that remained in her limbs and he wanted so bad to tell her to stay back, to let him deal with the Joker, but he knew that wouldn't go over well. She wouldn't agree, she wouldn't stay put, not unless he restrained her somehow and after what Joker had done to her, he wasn't prepared to take that step. But he wasn't sure he would be able to protect her while trying to apprehend the clown.

Too soon, they were ducking behind a neighbouring building, surveying the perimeter of the factory for any signs of henchmen with guns or those hyenas; the wild dogs had not been captured at the house and their bodies had not been found. Some of the hired guns had managed to escape as well, and if any of them were stupid enough to maintain their purchased loyalty, they would be here and they would be armed again, even if it was only after a fashion.

"I don't hear or see anyone from down here," Darkshade whispered. "I'm going up to the roof."

Batman watched her almost silently ascend the fire escape ladder and disappear over the edge. A moment later, her head appeared back over the edge, just a silhouette in the dim light. With just a small motion, she indicated that he should join her. He did, making just as little noise as she did.

"There's a man just inside the back down and I saw two walk by the windows, I'm guessing on an elevated catwalk or something."

"Any sign of Joker or the hyenas?"

Darkshade raised a finger, indicating that he should be quiet and wait. In a brief second of near silence, he heard a faint yipping—an animal in pain. Perhaps the wild dogs had taken a few hits during the scuffle at the old house. How they were injured didn't matter. What did matter was that they were there and presented an obstacle between the vigilantes and their target.

Batman nodded once and the pair moved silently over the roofs towards the candy factory. They watched the window and waited for the guards to go by again before jumping the narrow gap and maneuvering the window open from the outside; since the building was old and in disrepair, it was an easy task. Darkshade slipped in first, her dark clothing blending in with the shadows on the elevated catwalk. Batman followed, his eyes instantly taking in the pools of light around the room, and the thugs gathered around makeshift tables, some holding makeshift weapons, others holding very real guns. The hyenas were tied to the wall with chains and other things that might have been lying around when they stumbled into the factory; there were also pieces of previous schemes lying around that meant Joker had used this place as a hideout before.

The clown in question was pacing around, a mouldy rubber chicken dangling form one hand, and his comically large revolver wrapped in his long white fingers of the other.

The Dark Knight's observations were cut short when the guards on the catwalk started to approach. He looked to Darkshade, who nodded once with a barely perceptible movement and slid sinuously down the platform until she was a decent distance ahead. Batman slipped behind the guards as they passed the patch of shadows and readied himself for the takedown. He knew Darkshade was there and would be able to move in fast enough to suppress any opportunity for one of the thugs to cry out, but Batman didn't miss. Not in a situation like this.

And he wasn't going to let the unpredictable nature of Darkshade's response to being near the man responsible for her torture get in the way, either.

At the appropriate moment, Batman lunged forward and seized either henchmen and slammed their heads together. There was a dull thump that couldn't have been heard more than a few steps away, and the brutes crumpled to the floor, unconscious. That made a little more noise, but Batman caught them before they could hit the metal catwalk with their full weight. Darkshade rushed forward to catch more of the weight and, between the two of them, the crash was muffled into near non-existence.

With only a slight nod between them, the pair of vigilantes moved the bodies to one side and then quickened away before someone came to investigate.

On the opposite side of the catwalk, Batman spied a low-hanging I-beam, spanning the width of the factory. There was a matching I-beam at the opposite end of the factory. The close one would serve the purposes of The Caped Crusader nicely. He aimed his grappling hook and fired at the beam, Darkshade matching the movements beside him. As the lines pulled them forward and up, they made a minimal whisper of noise and, having practiced the landing, they both affixed themselves, bellies down, to the top of the beams and stared down at the Joker and his assorted goons.

* * *

The steel was cool against her cheek. It was calming. Marginally. Darkshade was very much terrified and a little bit of cold steel wasn't going to make that go away, not after the trauma she had suffered. All her joints were screaming when she tried to move even the slightest bit, telling her to stay put, to not go near the Joker. Her skin was sweaty and that fine trembling was back, but she did her best to not let it show, to not appear afraid. She had to face this, face him. She had to prove to herself that she could do this. She had to prove it to Batman, to Bruce.

Abruptly she felt her control of her appearance slipping. Her eyes shifted rapidly and beneath the mask of Darkshade, Eleanor knew they would look like swirling pools of colour, one rapidly taking over the next as she struggled to keep them black. She tried to swallow back the fear, but it wasn't budging. It remained, a solid lump in her mouth, and impaired all she had gained back from the nanomachines. As long as the trembling didn't evolve into full-on shaking she'd be able to hide it.

All too soon, Batman was in motion again. Darkshade wasn't surprised that she hadn't been apprised of the plan, but the sudden transition of one of the henchmen from his feet on the floor to his ass towards the ceiling was a little startling. It only took her an instant to realize what had happened and to send her own line down to snatch another guard from his feet.

She was surprised she'd been able to respond at all.

Muscle memory?

The joy of what she did?

The overwhelming need to impress The Dark Knight of Gotham?

She didn't care. It didn't really matter, as long as she could move.

The guards' sudden ability to fly caught the attention of the rest of the goons and The Joker and a chorus of shouts and gunshots went up to the ceiling. Batman and Darkshade swung down almost un unison, the attached lines slowing their descent just enough to prevent the breaking of limbs and allowing for suitable dramatics. Cape and coat flared out around the vigilantes and, just for a moment, everything stopped.

Darkshade's black eyes met Joker's as the clown scanned the new arrivals, that comically large pistol in his hands. The barrel, a gapping maw of a thing, was pointed directly at them and there was a gruesome smile on his face.

Darkshade felt her entire body seize, just give up.

Even when Batman moved, she was still.

Her body was suddenly on fire, the pain of every wound sustained at the Joker's hands suddenly tearing through her flesh again. Phantom streaks of blood trekked across her skin, soaking through her clothes, leaving unimaginable stains. The feeling of pseudo-wholeness the nanomachines had instilled vanished, and she was full of holes again.

When the gunshot went off, her brain screamed at her to react, to move, to protect herself.

When the bullet struck her lower leg, she didn't feel the pain amongst the memories.

When one of the lackeys moved forward to grab her, she still didn't move.

It was only when Batman leapt into an attack that she began to move, her body operating without conscious thought.

She went for the Joker.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Can't Let You Go—Matchbox Twenty.  
Invincible—Muse.

OK, so I've had some serious lack of inspiration lately. I haven't written anything in quite a while and it's starting to make me feel off, so I forced this one out. I'm going to finish this damn fic so it can stop kicking my ass. It's taken me FOUR FUCKING YEARS to get it done. FOUR FUCKING YEARS. I'm a little ashamed of myself for letting it take this long, but I'll take the hit in reviews and hits and interest in this story. I just need to GET IT DONE.

And that's my rant. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. There's just three more and the epilogue now, and I'm going to get them done before February 9th, which is the official four year mark. I am not going to let this reach four years.

Determined.

Also, I apologize if this doesn't seem… I don't know. I wrote it over a period of days, when normally I do a chapter in one or two days, so I'm not sure how that affected it. Also also, there are lots of real-life things on my mind right now which may have to do with the lack of inspiration.

Don't hate me.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Everybody Knows That You Are Insane. **


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: You're Insane

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You.  
**Chapter Twenty-Two: Everybody Knows That You Are Insane.

* * *

Because he was distracted with Batman, Darkshade was able to tackle Joker with a shoulder in his skinny gut. They went flying backwards, smacking into the concrete floor of the factory and skidding a few feet, the fabric of Joker's already frayed purple coat entering an even rougher state as it met the floor. She didn't get a chance to further her attack however, as a pair of heavy hands wrapped around her arms and hauled her to her feet before tossing her into the nearest wall, which she hit with a rather loud thud before sliding to the floor, a small pool of blood forming beneath her wounded leg.

She saw the blood and the bullet hole in her pants and the flesh beneath, but she still didn't feel anything. Her body was still locked in the remembered pain of her torture and the rage it brought on. So, Darkshade was on her feet within an instant, a guttural scream ripping from her throat. The nearest guards turned to her and moved forward.

Darkshade wasn't exactly ready, but the blows glanced off with only momentary flares of pain in the darkness. She managed to incapacitate a few goons before her vision started to blur, and a few more before her knees hit the ground, body weak from blood-loss and remembered exhaustion.

"My, my Batsie... It looks as if your little friend isn't up for the fight. Has she faced some sort of trauma recently?"

Joker's shrieking inquiry reached her ears through the growing fog, as did Batman's grumbled reply, although she couldn't make out those words, because someone had kicked her kidney and she'd fallen forward to meet the floor. There was blood on her cheek now, and in her mouth. The metallic taste of it overwhelmed her senses. Her new wounds flared to life and she tried to scream, but the dirty concrete muffled the attempt.

"Do you think she needs some help?" came the Joker's voice, closer now. Someone worked their fingers into her hair and pulled her up. It had to be one of the goons because when she stopped moving, Darkshade was looking down at Joker. "Hold her steady there you."

Darkshade sent her black eyes roaming and found Batman across the room, currently engaged with both hyenas. One had its jaws latched onto his forearm, and the other was engaged in a tug-of-war with his cape. As she focused on them, the growling and scraping of claws reached her ears. She started to struggle, to get free so she could go help, but the hand in her hair tightened and she was lifted off her feet. She screamed again, every nerve now on fire with current or past pain.

The Joker laughed, cackled.

As her voice continued to tear from her throat, Darkshade hauled her leg back and kicked him in the chin, her boot connecting solidly with flesh. She had time to see him stumble backwards a few paces and hear the laugh still trickling from his lips before the sudden motion wrenched her from the goon's hands, tearing a chunk of hair and skin from her head. It hurt, but the nanomachines were working again and she didn't feel helpless this time, so they would keep working, even though the sight of the purple and green man scared the shit out of her. Even though she was still hurting. She would not become a mass of useless, terrified flesh allowing herself to be beaten, cut, and burned. She would not be carved anymore.

After only a brief second on the floor, Darkshade pushed herself to her feet, turned and drove her knee into the guard who had been holding her by her hair. He took a step back, but didn't let the attack knock him from his feet. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath and moved forward, meaty hands grabbing for the vigilante. She ducked under his assault and maneuvered herself behind him so she could kick his knees, breaking one of the joints, and sending him tumbling down. As the goon fell, Darkshade looked around, expecting to be swarmed by more of the Joker's henchmen.

They were all standing around the periphery, where they had retreated when the attempted spectacle with Darkshade had begun, all looking towards where Joker was standing, clutching his jaw with one hand and trying to aim the gun at Batman with the other. For the span of an inhaled breath, time slowed. Darkshade took in the cowering hyenas, the blood dripping down Batman's arm from where the animal had managed to sink its teeth. She let her own pain wash over her in time with her heartbeats, but she focused only on the need to stop the Joker, to conquer the fear he instilled in her.

As she began to exhale, time snapped back to normal speed, and the wounded vigilante was moving one more.

All the while her leg was screaming at her to stop.

* * *

Gordon's cell phone rang, the noise barely audible above the racket caused by the more vocal inmates of Arkham Asylum. He was standing in the solitary confinement wing of the asylum, the place they kept the so-called masked villains of Gotham, even though most of them didn't bother trying to cover up who they were, and he had been having a conversation about upping the security with the head guard. When he eventually heard his phone, the police commissioner muttered an apology and brought the device to his ear.

"Yes?"

"_We've got reports of a commotion up by Amusement Mile. A jogger—either brave or stupid—was moving through the area and said he heard the sounds of fighting and what might have been gunshots." _

"Joker?"

"_It sounds like it might be. There was no sign of the Bat though." _

"Doesn't mean he's not there." Gordon ran a hand over his face, moving his glasses up so he could pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. "Get a team up there. I'm on my way."

"_Do you want me to send anyone to Arkham to finish the security check?"_

Gordon nodded reflexively and then, remembering that he was on the phone, said, "Yes." Then he hung up and turned back to the security guard, a well-built man who looked like he may have had experience dealing with the inmates outside of the asylum. "I have another officer on the way to finish this security check."

The guard nodded. "I'll make sure there's a cell ready for that bastard clown."

Gordon nodded again and then headed for the heavy doors at the entrance to the maximum security wing, his car keys already in his hand and what was rapidly becoming his trademarked dark look on his face. When he reached his unmarked car, parked in the employee lot, he paused before getting in to suck in a deep breath. He didn't pray or wish that this was the end of the whole debacle, because in his experience, that always brought bad luck, but he did hope that they could get to the end of this without any more devastation.

* * *

Some unspoken agreement had left Batman to deal with Joker, while Darkshade handled the majority of the goons. The paralysing fear wasn't such a bother when she wasn't actually facing the clown, but her wounds were slowing her down, and the nanomachines didn't have time to heal them. The machines still weren't at one hundred percent, and she kept moving. Her leg was covered in blood, the black jeans soaked through with it; she'd lost enough that she was leaving bloody footprints on the concrete as she moved, and Batman knew, even has he was engaged in his own fighting, that if this didn't end soon, she was going to pass out from blood loss.

Batman had managed to get the gun away from Joker, the hulking piece of metal lying somewhere in a shadowy corner behind some boxes while the scuffling continued. The hyenas had retreated, both heavily wounded and one missing several teeth. The group of henchmen Joker had managed to gather about him in the candy factory was only at a quarter of their former number, most of them lying unconscious or injured on the floor, and the Joker himself was looking a little shaky on his feet.

There was blood coating the lower half of his face from a bloody nose that was still dripping, and a gash Batman's fist had opened on a cheekbone. One ankle had been broken and there was a definite shake in the other leg.

He was almost done. This was almost done.

* * *

Darkshade's breath was coming in ragged pants instead of the normally smooth and even beats it usually did, even when she was fighting. Spots of light kept dancing across her vision and she knew she was close to passing out. Her stomach was roiling with the first waves of nausea, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She hadn't actually looked over to see where Batman was in his fight with Joker and the few henchmen stupid enough to get involved, but she knew if she did stop to look, or stopped at all, she wouldn't be able to start moving again.

She felt like she was spread out too far and wearing thin in places. There were tiny holes and she was starting to fall apart.

Her next punch reverberated along her arm, starting a fine trembling throughout her body. She dodged a kick and stumbled, falling to one knee. Darkshade still managed to keep the kick from connecting too solidly, but it drove her farther down.

"Give up bitch!" one of the goons snarled.

Darkshade grabbed his leg and pulled him off balance, sending him colliding into a couple others.

She didn't see the butt of the gun coming, and thankfully, she didn't have to. Someone grabbed her, pulled her backwards and then sent the makeshift club-wielding henchmen flying.

Batman took most of her weight as she sagged gratefully against him. She wasn't so out of it to notice that he wasn't quite as quick at recovering his balance as he normally would have been and she tried to look harder at the Caped Crusader, but her vision blurred as she moved and she was forced to lean heavier into Batman so she wouldn't pass out. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Are we done?" she breathed, voice only loud enough for Batman to hear.

He didn't answer, but there was a slight motion that may have been a nod. When Batman started towards the door, she knew it was. Darkshade didn't try and look for the Joker, to see if he really was cuffed and unconscious. She didn't want to see him again right then. All she wanted to do was get home and curl up in bed until she was back on top of her game. One hand moving weakly, Darkshade pulled her leather jacket more tightly around her and clenched her jaw shut, lest she start crying in front of the cops who she could hear gathering about the building; she would love to know how Batman could tell when the police were on their way, but that was a question for another time. Batman and Darkshade limped out the back of the building as the cops poured in the front.

Once they were in the Batmobile, Batman put his phones to his ear. "I'll meet you at Arkham," was all he said before hanging up.

Darkshade settled back in the seat, her eyes closed. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to untwist her nerves. Instead, that damned shaking started again and the tears she'd been holding back sprung forward.

"Are you up for this?"

Any other time, his tone would have made Darkshade snap a sarcastic quip, but at that moment, she just made some vague gesture. "No. I want to go home and sleep for a week, but I'm going to do this. I have to do this."

Arkham Asylum has originally been housed in a big, old mansion. There had just been a few patients, special cases that warranted closer study outside the other institutions the city had to offer. Over the years however, more and more patients had been shipped there, and the building had needed to grow. Additions had been added to the house, and then finally, the city had funded the construction of a new building, square and sterile like all the other hospitals in the city, and situated it behind the original house, connecting it via a covered passage. That had been years ago, however, and the small collective of buildings and surrounding grounds had fallen into disrepair.

The cast iron gates, covered in twisting vines that nearly obstructed the ornate A at the top, swung open on rusty hinges, admitting the Batmobile at the head of the line of cop cars. Darkshade, her tears dry and the shaking minimal after a near freak-out on the way there, shivered at the sound.

"How is this place still used?" she wondered aloud. "It looks like it's about to fall apart… no wonder the bad guys escape all the time." Batman made no comment as they drove up the winding drive, so Darkshade just continued talking. "Maybe it's time for Eleanor Black to make a big donation to Arkham Asylum so they can do some improvements. Maybe I could start a foundation. I'm not exactly working a day job anymore and being your PA doesn't take up all my time. I've got more than enough to start some philanthropic work."

Batman's mouth fell into a straight line, giving the same impression that a raised eyebrow would have. Darkshade shrugged and climbed out of the car as it glided to a stop in front of the big doors of the main building.

The vigilantes stood by the hulk of a car while Gordon and his men dragged the Joker into the asylum; the henchmen were being taken to Blackgate, the prison for the "normal" criminals. They brought up the rear of the line, almost invisible in the shadows. The procession wound through the labyrinthine hallways until they were in the solitary confinement wing in the basement of the large hospital building.

The damp hallway with lined with heavy metal doors, shrieks of every kind emanating from behind them. Darkshade unconsciously moved closer to Batman, the shaking worsening with every step. When they passed the cells where Harley Quinn and The Queen of Spades were confined, their shrill voices poured into the hallway. Queen's voice was just meaningless syllables. It sounded as if she may have cracked. Harley Quinn on the other hand, sounded on the verge of tears.

"Mista J! Mista J, are you OK?"

The Joker, still a little senseless, turned his head towards the door. His pale skin looked a little green in the bad lighting. "Harl?"

"PUDDIN'!"

The cops were rolling their eyes in disgust and holding Joker in the middle of the hallway, between the two cells. Darkshade moved away from the clown, inadvertently putting her back to the cell containing The Queen of Spades. The skinny villain slipped her arms through the bars in her door—how she got up that high, no one was sure—and grabbed Darkshade's hair, hauling her backwards into the metal door with more strength than Darkshade would have thought possible.

Darkshade gave a guttural cry—the position she was being held in was too much like when she'd been hanging around in the Joker's hideout—and began to thrash. More of her hair tore out of her head before anyone else could come to her rescue, and she dropped to the ground, scrambling quickly to her feet and down the hall a few steps, ending up near Gordon.

"Take a few deep breaths," Gordon whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Something in his voice got through the panic and Darkshade realized just how on edge she was. She shook her head and then tried to breathe deeply, feeling utterly weak and useless. When the first decent breath reached her lungs though, she felt better. Darkshade shook her head again and looked up into Gordon's friendly face, giving him a small smile.

"Thank you."

"You'll move passed this."

Darkshade raised an eyebrow, the smile on her face growing fractionally. "And if I don't?"

Gordon shrugged and then gestured down the hall. "We'd better catch up."

Though she remained at the back of the group as they shoved Joker into his cell at the end of the hallway with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, Darkshade made it through the rest of the spectacle. Joker kept yelling things about the next time he got out, but it was hard to take him seriously when he kept slurring his words and tipping sharply to one side. The attendant shot him up with a sedative and the deranged man collapsed onto the floor. They left him there when they locked the door.

Darkshade was shocked by how… human the Joker looked slumped on the floor.

She chewed her bottom lip as they exited Arkham Asylum, wondering at how easy it was to forget that all the villains Batman had faced were just people. Just like her. It bothered her that she could have followed in their footsteps after all that had happened with the Doppelganger and then earlier that year with Joker and her mother. She could very easily have found her way to Gotham's underground, joined up with some villain or started her own crime spree, like Queen of Spades had.

Back in the Batmobile, hidden from all the eyes nearby, Darkshade let the mask slip. Eleanor turned to face Batman and said a silent thank you to whatever higher power there was—if there was one—that she knew Bruce, that she had discovered he was Batman, and that he had brought her into the vigilante world.

She gave his arm a quick squeeze.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Everybody Knows That You Are Insane—Queens of the Stone Age.

So I may not make it to that four year deadline… in fact, I probably won't, but oh well. As long as I get this thing finished, I guess.

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG.

Fanfiction just isn't doing it for me anymore. Not really.

But I'm going to finish it.

Have to.

THAT I am determined about.

So, please enjoy. We're almost to the end.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Suture Up Your Future. **


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: Sutured Future

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You.  
**Chapter Twenty-Three: Suture Up Your Future.

* * *

Gotham City recovered quickly from all the havoc the Joker and his henchwomen had caused. For anyone from outside the city, it would have seemed odd that the island could rebound so fast, but they'd been through it before and the Gothamites would go through it again. Batman had found the days immediately following Joker's arrest to be quiet. Catwoman had all but vanished, although she could just be biding her time, and any crime that Batman did encounter while patrolling the streets was what was thought of as run of the mill in Gotham City. Batman would never have admitted it to anyone, but the lull between the truly crazy villains was something he needed to keep going.

It was something Eleanor was going to have to come to realize if she was going to continue as Darkshade. Bruce had tried to give her an out. He had seen how she'd acted after he'd pulled her from the hole. He knew she wouldn't go around telling people his secret and he knew that she would stick around, doing whatever she could. But she hadn't budged. Eleanor had remained strong in her resolution to keep fighting as Darkshade. She had wanted to be a vigilante, to help Batman, and Bruce had finally capitulated, giving her the means to do so. She had fought through the panic and fear she'd felt in the face of the Joker, to remain strong, and she had survived. She wasn't going to let that be for nothing. And Eleanor had let Bruce know all this in as determined a voice as she could manage without yelling. She'd also made a point of letting him know that she hadn't felt any pain in her back from the nanomachines in quite some time.

Bruce knew he'd lost whatever fight he was trying to have. He wanted to keep her safe, but she wanted to be out with Batman, running across rooftops. He'd seen the look on her face when she was out in the rain, perched on gargoyles and railings high above the city. Perhaps he hadn't fought as hard as he might if it had been anyone else.

She hadn't been on patrol with him for a few nights now, not since they'd returned from Arkham. Eleanor had spent most of that time asleep, or lying in bed, reading. She only ventured downstairs for food, and since two nights ago, to sit in the Batcave while Batman was out on patrol.

For the first few days, Eleanor had retained a haunted, weak look. She'd moved tentatively and hadn't actually come downstairs until the third day, when she'd first felt hungry again. After that, she'd eat like there was a food shortage in the city, and Alfred and Bruce took that for the good sign it was. Eleanor had always had a big appetite, and it had only increased after she had been injected with the nanomachines. The food seemed to refuel the little things, as the day after she'd first started eating again, her wounds had healed, her colour had come back, and she'd returned to her normal, sarcastic, energetic self.

That was when they'd had the argument, or debate as she liked to call it, about her status as a vigilante.

Currently, Eleanor was sitting in the chair in front of the array of computer monitors in the Batcave, swinging idly back and forth as Bruce prepared for patrol that night. Her dark brown hair was still damp from her shower and un-brushed, and the curling ends swung back in forth with her movement. There was a plate with a couple slices of homemade pizza on it on the desk beside her, along with a couple cans of Coke.

"I think I'll join you tomorrow," she said as Bruce moved up beside the chair and started typing something, leaning half over her shoulder.

"Back to normal then?" He didn't take his eyes off the computer screen as he keyed through several maps of Gotham.

She nodded, the side of her head brushing against his arm before she leaned against it. "I think I've eaten more than you, Alfred and Blaze over the past couple days." As she mentioned her dog, she stuck her foot down under the desk and wiggled her toes against his thick fur. "And there isn't a mark left on my body from… anything."

The confidence in her voice slipped a fraction, and Bruce turned away to look down at her. Her blue eyes were even bluer in the light from the computers, and he could see the scars her capture, torture, and then the self-induced need to face it immediately, had left. She was still terrified. In what he realized was becoming a rare display of emotion, Bruce took Eleanor by the hand and pulled her up so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She sank into the contact, pressing her face into his chest and curling up against him. He could smell the faint scent of coconut from her shampoo as he softly kissed her forehead before he attempted to move back to his work.

Eleanor had other ideas. She balled her hand into a fist around his t-shirt and pulled him down so she could kiss his lips. He returned the kiss and once again drew her into the circle of his arms. When they parted a moment later, Eleanor smiled up at him and ran her hands over his chest.

"You'd better go clean up the streets, it's almost dark," she said, her hands still lingering on his shirt.

Bruce gave her a small smile before he moved to where the Batsuit waited.

* * *

Eleanor woke up the next morning with her head where her feet should be. She was lying on Bruce's bed, the blankets tangled around her legs, one pillow clutched tightly in her hand. Her fingers were a little cramped, as was her back from lying in a ball for what she assumed was most of the night. She blinked a few times before getting to her feet and stretching herself out.

She wasn't surprised that she'd ended up semi-contorted. The nightmares she'd been having had all had to do with the Joker, and her being hung by her feet while chunks of flesh were cut from her body in the shape of a bat. Harley Quinn, Queen of Spades, and the hyenas had been laughing in a corner, while Batman had tried to save her, but was restrained by a pile of Joker's henchmen. Then, she'd been thrown in a hole with no bottom. As she'd fallen, she'd begun to burn, her flesh flaking away in gusts of icy air from below her, carrying the sound of Joker's laughter with it. She'd awoken just as the last bit of her body had flaked away.

Eleanor pressed her nose to her knees for a few counts before she stood up and rolled her shoulders. She pulled on her pyjama pants and shuffled into the bathroom, vaguely wondering where Bruce was and if he'd ever got to sleep. When she made it down to the kitchen, she found the aforementioned billionaire seated at the table, reading the paper and sipping coffee while Alfred was busy making bacon and eggs. Eleanor dropped into the chair across from Bruce and put her forehead on the table.

"All the advanced technology Wayne Enterprises has to offer, Ms. Black, and you are still not a morning person," Alfred said as he placed a mug of coffee beside her.

"Apparently not. Thanks, Alfred." She took a long drink of the hot coffee before she smiled at Bruce. "Anything exciting happen last night?"

Bruce shook his head as he folded the paper and placed it on the table beside him. "Gotham is still quiet."

"Any news about how the bad guys are taking to Arkham again?"

The look Bruce gave her was plainly asking why she wanted to know, but instead of asking anything, he just said, "Nothing worth noting. The Queen of Spades, whose real name is Daria Vaudry, seems to have lost whatever sanity she had left. She almost bit the ear off one of the doctors, so they're keeping her sedated. Harley Quinn and Joker are unchanged. They sit in their cells, singing and talking to themselves. Harley Quinn keeps asking about her pets."

Eleanor made a face. "Those damn hyenas?"

Bruce nodded.

Alfred finished cooking breakfast and the three of them sat at the table, eating in silence. When Eleanor was done her breakfast, she deposited the dishes in the dishwasher and then headed out the backyard to see her dog. It had been so long she she'd spent any real time with Blaze and she was certain now that he didn't have a lot of time left. As she stepped out onto the porch, the red husky moved from his spot on the grass to lick her hand. She crouched down in front of him and scratched his ears. He took a step forward and pushed her over backwards.

"I missed you too," Eleanor said around a laugh. She entwined her fingers in his thick fur and pressed her forehead to his.

He slobbered all over her.

* * *

"You are an idiot, you know that? A stupid, idiotic, reckless, stupid IDIOT!" Shauna glared at Eleanor as the taller woman just smiled at her. "And I hate that you heal better and faster than I do."

Eleanor laughed and hugged Shauna again. "I'm sorry!"

Shauna shoved Eleanor back, but she was smiling as she did it. "You don't need to apologize. I should apologize."

Eleanor waved it off. "Don't worry about it. It's all in the past." She took another sip of her tea and retained the smile she'd had since her somewhat injured friend had opened the door to her apartment. "How are you feeling?"

"Still sore, still scared, but I'm healing quicker than the doctors expected, and Adam will barely leave me alone." The expression on Shauna's face became wistful and her cheeks flushed. "I think he's afraid I'm going to relapse or something and have a breakdown. I didn't handle your capture so well, and I pulled some of my stitches out while I was freaking out." Shauna pulled up her shirt to show Eleanor the jagged marks on her stomach. The wound was still stitched together. "In fact, he'll be here in about an hour if you wanna hang around."

Eleanor chewed her lip as she thought it over. "Maybe another time. I'm still not sure how to talk about it to people who don't know that I'm Darkshade." She wrapped her hands tightly around the mug in her hands.

Shauna shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll let him know you're well and still adjusting. He'll be mad that you didn't stay to see him, and that you're talking to me, but he'll get over it."

"Thanks."

"So how have you been doing?" Shauna asked cautiously.

Without asking, Eleanor knew her friend didn't mean physically. The nanomachines had made her look better than before the Joker had taken her. "I'm slowly getting there. I'll be going on patrol tonight, so that'll be the real test, but the nightmares don't scare me as much as they did the first few nights and I don't find myself paralyzed with fear when I think about the Joker anymore." Eleanor shifted uncomfortably. "It'll take me a long time, I think, to totally get over it, but I'm well enough to function without freaking out."

"Well don't push yourself too hard, OK? I don't want to see you run yourself into the ground, and neither does your father, who, by the way, has mighty big suspicions about you."

"You didn't tell him anything though, did you?"

"Of course not Ellie, I'm not stupid. Your father wasn't torturing me for information—I'm not going to give him anything." The girls almost laughed about it, but it was too soon. "But I think you should consider telling him. Liam loves you and he doesn't want to lose you, especially after what happened to Naomi." Shauna drained her tea cup and settled back in her chair, pulling her blanket higher up around herself. "While you were in the Joker's hands, he nearly lost his mind. Adam and I spent a lot of time with him, so he could talk to the police and deal with all the fallout with friendly faces nearby."

Eleanor sighed and crumpled in on in herself, feeling terribly guilty that she hadn't gone to see her father yet. "I'll go see him before I head back to the mansion, but the same problem applies."

"Eleanor, your father is not going to make you talk about something you don't want to. He's just going to want to see you to know that you're all right. That you're in one piece and that you're still his little girl."

Eleanor ran her hand back through her dark brown hair and sighed again. She finished her own cup of tea and got up to put both mugs in the sink. "I know you're right Shauna," she said as she started washing the few dishes that were sitting on the counter. "It's still… It's still a huge leap to take. My father is a brilliant man, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what I do every night. I can't pretend that I'm too stupid to do this—he knows the real me and he knows the real Bruce." The sigh that left her mouth that time was heavy and a little ragged. "I don't know how to talk to him without bringing Darkshade up."

"You don't have to wash the dishes, and you'll figure it out."

"I'm already washing the dishes, and I guess I'll have to, won't I? Dad's certainly not going to sit by much longer. He's already given me so much space."

Shauna got up and hugged Eleanor as tightly as she could manage without further injuring herself. "Call me if you have to. I don't sleep much, even with all the painkillers."

Eleanor hugged Shauna, trying really hard not to get soap in her friend's hair.

* * *

Shauna was right about Liam. When he opened the door and saw that Eleanor was standing there, looking nervous but otherwise in one piece, he gave a wordless cry and threw his arms around his daughter. Eleanor sagged with relief and returned the hug, pressing her face into her father's shoulder and letting the tears fall.

"Ellie, oh my God, I'm so glad you're home! I'm so glad to see you're OK!" He all but hauled her inside to continue the welcome.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, Dad, but I spent most of the last few days sleeping."

Liam shrugged and wrapped his arms around his daughter again. "It doesn't matter, although you could have called. I've been worried sick about you, but I'm glad you're all right, Ellie. I'm glad you're here now." He took a step back and looked at her, a hand on either side of her face. "You are OK, aren't you Ellie? You look OK."

She put a hand on top of her father's and leaned into the contact a bit. "I've healed well, but I still have nightmares."

Liam looked his lips as he thought and pulled his hands back to put them on his hips. "Did Batman save you?" He hesitated on the name, and Eleanor was sure he'd almost said Bruce. When Eleanor nodded, Liam sighed, but she couldn't tell if it was in relief or frustration. After another moment where he looked as if he thought about saying fifty different things, Liam stepped forward and hugged Eleanor again, holding her close and holding her tight. "You can't stay, can you?"

Eleanor shook her head as she returned the embrace. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Ellie. Just… just be careful, OK? Don't get captured again."

Eleanor kissed her father's cheek and told him she loved him. On her way back out to the car, tears sprung into Eleanor's eyes. She was pretty sure Liam knew who was behind the mask of Darkshade, but he hadn't told her to stop, he hadn't even told her that he really knew what she did. Eleanor realized it must have hurt Liam to let her go off and continue being a vigilante. She smiled at the house as she climbed behind the wheel and said a silent thank you to father for letting her do what she had to do, what she wanted to do. Her secret would likely come out sooner or later, but for now, she could pretend that Liam didn't know, that he was just her father, who knew she was the assistant to Gotham's favoured son and no more.

On the drive back to the manor, Eleanor turned up the radio and sang loudly and badly to the music, a smile on her face.

* * *

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you sure?"

Eleanor gave Bruce her best exasperated look, her hands on her hips. "Yes, I am sure. We've talked about this Bruce. I'm not going anywhere. I fought for this. I'm doing it."

Bruce held up one hand, bringing the building argument to a halt. They'd had this fight many times before, but this would be the last. He wasn't going to push, and Eleanor wasn't going to bring it up. He looked at her, dressed once again in black jeans, and a black long-sleeved shirt. Her feet were bare and pale against the rock of the Batcave, and her cobalt eyes stark in the darkness. She hadn't fully changed into Darkshade yet, but she was halfway there, and Batman could see the vigilante's attitude building in those eyes as they started to swirl into black.

"Is there anything exciting on the radar?" she asked, padding softly over to the computers, which were currently displaying several news sites.

"Nothing special. Strictly patrol tonight."

Eleanor turned and leaned against the desk, arms folded across her chest. She met his heavy gaze and smirked before walking over to stand in front of him, her eyes black and her body still held in the same defiant position.

"Sounds like it could be fun."

Bruce almost laughed. One corner of his mouth did quirk upwards. He knew she was still a little shaken, but she was fighting to maintain the mantle of Darkshade. Maybe she wouldn't last too much longer, but for now, her future was in place. She gave him a wild grin before moving to the pile of clothes to finish changing.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Suture Up Your Future—Queens of the Stone Age.

OK, so I got rid of the twenty fourth chapter because it was only going to be… well, it was going to be short and I didn't want to have a really short chapter, when I could have easily fit it into this one and make this chapter better.

So, after this, there's just the epilogue and then we're done! The epilogue I have planned leaves it open for the possibility of more fanfiction after this one, but it also is the type of ending that doesn't require me to write any more if I don't want to, or can't. Because the inability to write more fanfiction is very likely. At least for now. I'm going to finish my Firefly fanfiction, and then my Mass Effect one after playing the third game, but after that, I don't know. If I write anything, it'll probably be Star Trek.

Anyways, thanks for sticking with me and enjoy.

By the way, this chapter just kind of fell out of my fingers.

Not sure why.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Tick Tick Boom; Here We Go Again. **


	24. Epilogue: Here We Go Again

I do not own Batman. That whole shebang is © DC Comics. Eleanor Black and everything that goes along with her and this plot do belong to me. Daria Vaudry/Queen of Spades belongs to my friend. The song titles in the chapters belong to their respective artists, named in the Author's Note at the end of the chapter. This fic is rated T for violence, gore, language and some sexual situations. Enjoy.

* * *

**Joke's On You.  
**Epilogue: Tick Tick Boom; Here We Go Again.

* * *

"I still can't believe they gave you tickets to the circus."

Bruce shrugged as he settled into the less-than-comfortable seat that had been set up around the massive ring in front of them. They were close to the floor, and would have a good view of everything, but right now all they had a good view of was Gotham's well-to-do in nice clothing, either trying to look like they fit in, or like they would have rather been anywhere else. The only reason they were there was the ticket purchases from this show were going to Gotham City Children's Hospital. Bruce had been given his tickets for free because of previous very generous donations.

"I haven't been to a circus in ages!" Eleanor continued, her excitement increasing. She was smiling as she flipped through the program she'd been given at the door. "Oh, I've heard of these acrobats—The Flying Graysons. Now that's a family that trusts each other."

Bruce, who was playing the billionaire fop in full force that night, gave her a bright smile. "I would like it to start on time though. We have other engagements to get to."

Eleanor crossed her legs and adjusted the knee-length emerald dress she was wearing. It wasn't too hot outside yet—it was only late spring—but the tent was getting a little stuffy. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to get to the other party. It's a circus, not Cirque du Soleil." Just as she finished speaking, the lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated a round platform in the centre of the ring. "There you go," Eleanor whispered, leaning close and whispering in Bruce's ear.

The ringmaster, a tall, thin man with a top hat and tail coat, stepped onto the platform and spread his arms wide, above his head. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Haley's Circus, the greatest show in the world—featuring, The Flying Graysons!"

At his words, another spotlight lit a family of three standing on a platform high, high up, their costumes sparkling faintly in the light. The father was more muscular than Eleanor thought a trapeze artist would be, and the mother was tall and thin. Between them stood a young boy, probably around ten or eleven, who was smiling brightly and waving. Eleanor felt a smile creep on to her face. The three Graysons looked like they belonged on that platform. They looked comfortable up there, and Eleanor found herself watching them prepare as the ring master introduced the rest of the performers. Only when the upper spotlight dimmed, did Eleanor turn her attention to the centre of the ring.

The circus wasn't boring, or poorly performed by any means, but Eleanor was waiting for the trapeze show. She found that she'd have to wait through the intermission, but it turned out to be worth the wait.

The Flying Graysons were graceful and beautiful as they flew through the air. There act was well-rehearsed and they never missed a beat, and even though Eleanor knew they were trained to not let the other go, to not let each other fall, there were a few moments when her breath caught in her throat and she was afraid one of them would fall; this became even more intense when the net was removed for the few final tricks.

But nothing could have prepared Eleanor for the final trick.

It didn't go as planned, that's for sure.

Mr. Grayson was swinging from one of the apparatuses, preparing to catch Mrs. Grayson, who was swinging from her son's hands on the other swing. She let go of the young boy's hands, rolled elegantly through the air, and caught her husband's hands. The crowd breathed a sigh of relief—then the lines holding the swing up snapped and the elder Graysons plummeted to the ground, landing with a sickening crunch.

Eleanor and Bruce were on their feet almost immediately, her hand clutching Bruce's arm. "Oh my God," she breathed, watching as the audience moved to stand around the bodies, phones to ears and several people called 911; or, at least, Eleanor hoped they were calling 911. Even as she opened her mouth to voice that thought, Bruce was on his phone, calling Gordon. "That poor boy," she said instead, looking up at the platform, where the youngest Grayson was kneeling, his head in his hands. Eleanor could see his shoulders shaking with tears.

"I'm going outside," Bruce said.

Eleanor nodded, knowing he was going to see if there was any sign of someone sneaking around. After that, with Batman's identity and Gordon's help, he'd get a look at the equipment. But Eleanor didn't really care about that.

She couldn't take her eyes off the boy, still huddled on the platform. No one was paying any attention to him.

A little astonished, but not that surprised—nothing beat the spectacle of dead bodies—Eleanor climbed out of the stands and made her way through the crowd to the ladder leading up to the platform. As she climbed, she could hear the approaching sirens. There wouldn't be much time before she had to leave, and before the boy was taken into custody.

"Hello," she said quietly as she seated herself beside the boy. "What's your name?"

He looked at her, his blue eyes showing too much white. He hadn't started crying yet. He was still in shock. "Ri-Richard, but all my friends call me Dick," he managed. His voice was shaking.

Eleanor tentatively placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. He sagged slightly under that touch and moved a little close to Eleanor, allowing her to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He was beginning to shake and Eleanor hoped the ambulance would arrive soon before he could fall too deeply into shock. Making a split-second decision, Eleanor whipped out her phone and sent Bruce a text telling him she was going to go to the police station with the boy to keep an eye on him. Bruce would know that she wanted to be there for the boy, but he would also appreciate her being there in case someone tried to kill the kid too.

"What's… what's going to happen now?" the boy asked.

Not even trying to hide her surprise at Dick's ability to think of anything other than his dead parents on the floor, Eleanor said, "The medics will check you over to make sure you're not injured—"

"I'm fine."

"Nevertheless, they're going to check you out, and then you'll be taken to the police station to answer some questions. The police will call social services and find you a place to stay, if don't have any family in the area."

"I don't. It was just… it was just us." Dick's blue eyes fell to the bodies of his parents, now hidden by the press of the crowd.

"Then social services will find you a place to stay."

Dick made some wordless noise before withdrawing. He stayed close to Eleanor, however, and when the medics and the police arrived a few moments later, he asked her to stay with him, so he would have someone to talk to. Eleanor nodded, glad he had asked her to stay instead of having to ask him. So, once Dick had been checked out and okayed by the medics, he and Eleanor climbed in the back of Gordon's cruiser and they drove downtown. Dick didn't let go of Eleanor's arm the whole time.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

* * *

Tick Tick Boom—The Hives.  
Here We Go Again—Paramore.

This epilogue gave me some trouble, but that's OK, because it's done! And so is the story!

Anyways, this epilogue was just to point in the direction of the next story, if it ever gets written.

Guess who is going to be in it?

I'm so happy this is done! It's been a pain in my butt for a long time now. I am, however, also glad that so many people liked this story. If I ever get around to writing the next one, it has to do with Eleanor, Bruce, and Dick, adjusting to their life together, however unwanted it may be, while having to deal with some as-of-yet-undecided bad guy and the chaos he brings over Gotham City. I hadn't decided if Dick would have been Robin yet or not, but I'm not sure the next story will ever get written.

Anyways, thank you all for reading, and stay tuned for my next story! If there is one!

* * *

**Next Chapter: THERE ISN'T ONE! WE IS DONE! **


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